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 Ivory Coast and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 World's Most to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Newcleus,
Jawbox,
Ultravox,
La Düsseldorf,
Yusef Lateef,
Agent Orange,
The Raincoats,
Kas Product,
Mars,
The Monks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Y Pants,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eli Mardock,
The Divine Comedy,
Parry Music,
Roger Hodgson,
Slick Rick,
Lindisfarne,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mandrill,
Donny Hathaway,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Animal Collective,
Tres Demented,
James White and The Blacks,
Lou Christie,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dead Boys,
the Fania All-Stars,
Supertramp,
These Immortal Souls,
Amon Düül II,
The Move,
Camberwell Now,
Los Fastidios,
Heaven 17,
The Sonics,
Al Stewart,
Drexciya,
Todd Terry,
Rhythm & Sound,
Henry Cow,
Agitation Free,
Soulsonic Force,
Marmalade,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
DJ Style,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Nico,
Radio Birdman,
Au Pairs,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Max Romeo,
Gong,
Oblivians,
Deepchord,
Ornette Coleman,
Chris Corsano,
The Five Americans,
the Bar-Kays,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.