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 Congo and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sex Pistols to the disco 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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All The Tremeloes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Byron Stingily,
The Cramps,
Ronan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Fire Engines,
Heaven 17,
Blake Baxter,
Anthony Braxton,
The Techniques,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Doobie Brothers,
Carl Craig,
Pharoah Sanders,
These Immortal Souls,
Mary Jane Girls,
Crooked Eye,
Depeche Mode,
The Angels of Light,
Neil Young,
The Cure,
Godley & Creme,
Derrick Morgan,
PIL,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fatback Band,
The Pretty Things,
Marc Almond,
cv313,
Sam Rivers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ralphi Rosario,
Brass Construction,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
B.T. Express,
Eve St. Jones,
Leonard Cohen,
Glenn Branca,
Q and Not U,
Fugazi,
kango's stein massive,
E-Dancer,
Tomorrow,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Soft Machine,
Avey Tare,
Jeff Mills,
a-ha,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kerrie Biddell,
Warsaw,
Vainqueur,
Rapeman,
The Durutti Column,
Brothers Johnson,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Hoover,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Blues Magoos,
The Red Krayola,
Theoretical Girls,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.