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 Ivory Coast and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Taipei and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Scion to the grime 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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
June of 44,
Nils Olav,
Funky Four + One,
Eric B and Rakim,
Prince Buster,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Doors,
The Martian,
Sister Nancy,
Johnny Clarke,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Victims,
Aswad,
Max Romeo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
Ultimate Spinach,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The New Christs,
The Five Americans,
Girls At Our Best!,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Minor Threat,
DJ Sneak,
Stetsasonic,
Maurizio,
Jimmy McGriff,
Arcadia,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Angels of Light,
Alice Coltrane,
Kenny Larkin,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Cameo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Erasure,
Eve St. Jones,
Flipper,
Bronski Beat,
Reagan Youth,
Los Fastidios,
Robert Hood,
The American Breed,
Peter and Kerry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pierre Henry,
Brand Nubian,
Sexual Harrassment,
ABC,
Wire,
The Raincoats,
Depeche Mode,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Barry Ungar,
Rites of Spring,
Soft Machine,
Wally Richardson,
Nirvana,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.