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 Venezuela and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 organ 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 Deakin to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Amon Düül,
Pere Ubu,
Donny Hathaway,
Skaos,
The Modern Lovers,
The Fugs,
JFA,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bush Tetras,
Spoonie Gee,
Scion,
The Birthday Party,
The Monks,
Henry Cow,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Aaron Thompson,
Lou Christie,
The Vogues,
The Smoke,
The Gories,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Joyce Sims,
Deakin,
The Golliwogs,
Marine Girls,
The Buckinghams,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roy Ayers,
Average White Band,
The Pretty Things,
June Days,
Bill Wells,
Eden Ahbez,
DJ Style,
The Searchers,
Funky Four + One,
the Swans,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eddi Front,
Soulsonic Force,
Nik Kershaw,
The Doobie Brothers,
Television Personalities,
Minutemen,
Fad Gadget,
Agent Orange,
Funkadelic,
Moby Grape,
Second Layer,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ohio Players,
Freddie Wadling,
Rotary Connection,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Bob Dylan,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.