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 Belize and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Audionom record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Piero Umiliani,
Josef K,
Glambeats Corp.,
Warsaw,
The Misunderstood,
the Normal,
Simply Red,
Scion,
Junior Murvin,
Brass Construction,
Howard Jones,
John Lydon,
The Neon Judgement,
Flipper,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ronan,
the Sonics,
Judy Mowatt,
The Busters,
The Slits,
Roger Hodgson,
The Victims,
Barry Ungar,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Remains,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tom Boy,
Matthew Bourne,
One Last Wish,
Brand Nubian,
Skarface,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Thee Headcoats,
Audionom,
The Moleskins,
Hot Snakes,
The United States of America,
Mandrill,
Little Man,
the Swans,
The Five Americans,
Aswad,
Surgeon,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eurythmics,
Barclay James Harvest,
Blossom Toes,
Essential Logic,
The Grass Roots,
Joe Smooth,
Procol Harum,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lyres,
Public Enemy,
the Bar-Kays,
The New Christs,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ralphi Rosario,
Yellowson,
Morten Harket,
Gang Starr,
Country Teasers,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.