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 Yemen and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Holger Czukay 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 Wally Richardson to the dance 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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
Roy Ayers,
The Mojo Men,
Deepchord,
Tres Demented,
Radio Birdman,
Eric Copeland,
Colin Newman,
Pussy Galore,
Josef K,
Au Pairs,
The Alarm Clocks,
James White and The Blacks,
Chrome,
Bauhaus,
Bobby Womack,
Marvin Gaye,
DJ Style,
Wolf Eyes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
OOIOO,
Judy Mowatt,
Gang Starr,
Prince Buster,
Joey Negro,
Harry Pussy,
Ohio Players,
Marcia Griffiths,
Main Source,
Simply Red,
Organ,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Danielle Patucci,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Pus,
The Beau Brummels,
the Fania All-Stars,
Monolake,
Amazonics,
Dave Gahan,
The Busters,
Peter and Kerry,
Metal Thangz,
Michelle Simonal,
Kayak,
T. Rex,
Lucky Dragons,
Rhythm & Sound,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
DNA,
Lakeside,
48th St. Collective,
Procol Harum,
The Kinks,
Eden Ahbez,
Patti Smith,
The Birthday Party,
Average White Band,
Mars,
CMW,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.