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 El Salvador and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Black Flag to the techno 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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drive Like Jehu,
T. Rex,
Parry Music,
The Five Americans,
Eden Ahbez,
The Searchers,
Surgeon,
UT,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Brick,
The Red Krayola,
Alton Ellis,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gichy Dan,
Rufus Thomas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Basic Channel,
The Litter,
Pierre Henry,
Sun City Girls,
The Divine Comedy,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Soft Cell,
Frankie Knuckles,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pussy Galore,
Fad Gadget,
The Grass Roots,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bluetip,
Mark Hollis,
Motorama,
Saccharine Trust,
Accadde A,
Faraquet,
The Smoke,
Altered Images,
Anthony Braxton,
Khruangbin,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bronski Beat,
John Cale,
June Days,
Crispian St. Peters,
Nirvana,
Stiv Bators,
Black Pus,
The Cowsills,
Todd Terry,
Eli Mardock,
Ohio Players,
Public Enemy,
Vladislav Delay,
Chris Corsano,
Roger Hodgson,
Unwound,
Alison Limerick,
Cymande,
Joy Division,
The Knickerbockers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Metal Thangz,
Drexciya,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.