Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Comoros and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Standells to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by the Slits. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
Maleditus Sound,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eli Mardock,
Minnie Riperton,
Glambeats Corp.,
Chris & Cosey,
Prince Buster,
ABBA,
Radiohead,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Moleskins,
Sandy B,
Spandau Ballet,
Smog,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bush Tetras,
Cameo,
Eric Dolphy,
John Foxx,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Girls At Our Best!,
Monks,
Gastr Del Sol,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
John Coltrane,
Bill Wells,
June Days,
U.S. Maple,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Altered Images,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Flipper,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Alton Ellis,
K-Klass,
The Cure,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pierre Henry,
Cheater Slicks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gang Starr,
Aswad,
Angry Samoans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Von Mondo,
Animal Collective,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nick Fraelich,
Terry Callier,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Iggy Pop,
Livin' Joy,
Soft Machine,
Rekid,
David Bowie,
Public Image Ltd.,
La Düsseldorf,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.