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 Madagascar and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Houston.
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 808 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the crunk 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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Jandek,
The Mummies,
Intrusion,
Henry Cow,
Wire,
Pussy Galore,
Mark Hollis,
LL Cool J,
Sun Ra,
Goldenarms,
Alison Limerick,
Ultra Naté,
Ken Boothe,
The Knickerbockers,
The Golliwogs,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Womack,
The Fuzztones,
MC5,
Cybotron,
Kerri Chandler,
Crispy Ambulance,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eden Ahbez,
X-Ray Spex,
Quantec,
A Certain Ratio,
Icehouse,
Mary Jane Girls,
Camouflage,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Monolake,
Altered Images,
Pylon,
Crooked Eye,
The Cramps,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Make Up,
Faraquet,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bronski Beat,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gregory Isaacs,
Grauzone,
Tears for Fears,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Fad Gadget,
Brick,
The Searchers,
Hot Snakes,
David Axelrod,
Sixth Finger,
Duran Duran,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Monochrome Set,
Gong,
James White and The Blacks,
The Saints,
Deakin,
the Soft Cell,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.