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 Tuvalu and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Warsaw to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Martian. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pantaleimon,
Chris Corsano,
Ten City,
Harry Pussy,
Kas Product,
Severed Heads,
Man Parrish,
The Saints,
The Birthday Party,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Guru Guru,
The Moleskins,
Radiohead,
The Selecter,
The Mummies,
B.T. Express,
Hasil Adkins,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Nico,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Janne Schatter,
Bill Near,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Funky Four + One,
The Walker Brothers,
Dawn Penn,
Arthur Verocai,
The Martian,
World's Most,
Cluster,
The Divine Comedy,
John Coltrane,
The Stooges,
Royal Trux,
New Age Steppers,
Eden Ahbez,
The Star Department,
Black Pus,
Tomorrow,
Dave Gahan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ponytail,
Camberwell Now,
Sparks,
The Fuzztones,
The Fire Engines,
Michelle Simonal,
Morten Harket,
Ornette Coleman,
Marine Girls,
The American Breed,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Neon Judgement,
Urselle,
Country Teasers,
Jacob Miller,
The Tremeloes,
Todd Rundgren,
DJ Sneak,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.