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 Paraguay and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Tremeloes to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonic Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Heaven 17,
Fad Gadget,
Rakim,
DNA,
Echospace,
K-Klass,
The Blues Magoos,
Albert Ayler,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Monochrome Set,
Lou Reed,
The Dave Clark Five,
Hot Snakes,
Goldenarms,
David Axelrod,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Faust,
Fugazi,
Shuggie Otis,
The Neon Judgement,
Rod Modell,
Unwound,
E-Dancer,
The Searchers,
Freddie Wadling,
The Buckinghams,
The Blackbyrds,
The Names,
The Evens,
Big Daddy Kane,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kerri Chandler,
Q and Not U,
Radiohead,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Star Department,
Underground Resistance,
Terrestrial Tones,
Radio Birdman,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scratch Acid,
Black Moon,
Aswad,
Funkadelic,
John Holt,
Bobby Womack,
AZ,
The Motions,
Vladislav Delay,
the Germs,
Roger Hodgson,
Cluster,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lucky Dragons,
Angry Samoans,
One Last Wish,
a-ha,
James White and The Blacks,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.