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 Mauritius and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
Gang Gang Dance,
Technova,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pharoah Sanders,
Fear,
Byron Stingily,
Don Cherry,
Black Sheep,
Skarface,
the Normal,
Bang On A Can,
Blossom Toes,
Kas Product,
Depeche Mode,
Scrapy,
The Offenders,
The Red Krayola,
LL Cool J,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Faraquet,
The Dirtbombs,
The Residents,
Sixth Finger,
New Order,
T.S.O.L.,
Maleditus Sound,
Radio Birdman,
Kurtis Blow,
10cc,
Ornette Coleman,
The Fugs,
The Seeds,
Camouflage,
Lalo Schifrin,
Minutemen,
EPMD,
Deadbeat,
Leonard Cohen,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
June Days,
Gang of Four,
Jawbox,
Scratch Acid,
Rod Modell,
Eve St. Jones,
The Searchers,
Lyres,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Victims,
PIL,
Funky Four + One,
Scion,
Rufus Thomas,
Gil Scott Heron,
Minnie Riperton,
The Blues Magoos,
Oneida,
The Walker Brothers,
Quadrant,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.