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 Comoros and from New York.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Michael McDonald 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 H. Thieme to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Nik Kershaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Aloha Tigers,
Johnny Clarke,
Robert Hood,
Camberwell Now,
the Soft Cell,
Man Eating Sloth,
New York Dolls,
The Dirtbombs,
Skarface,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Malaria!,
The Young Rascals,
Lalann,
MDC,
The Victims,
Andrew Hill,
Gong,
Scott Walker,
Soul Sonic Force,
Monks,
Susan Cadogan,
Porter Ricks,
Steve Hackett,
The Birthday Party,
Mandrill,
Todd Terry,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Big Daddy Kane,
Circle Jerks,
The Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
The Toasters,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marvin Gaye,
Technova,
Minutemen,
The Move,
Panda Bear,
Vainqueur,
Chrome,
Minny Pops,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Count Five,
Crash Course in Science,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rod Modell,
Marine Girls,
Bad Manners,
Cybotron,
Radiohead,
Supertramp,
Carl Craig,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sällskapet,
John Lydon,
Stereo Dub,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Busters,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.