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 Kenya and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 David Bowie 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 X-102 to the crunk 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti 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?
Max Romeo,
Fat Boys,
Reuben Wilson,
Pere Ubu,
Marmalade,
Deakin,
Lungfish,
U.S. Maple,
Tomorrow,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Amazonics,
Bush Tetras,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Accadde A,
Spandau Ballet,
Youth Brigade,
the Slits,
Franke,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lalo Schifrin,
Crooked Eye,
Pantaleimon,
Buzzcocks,
Byron Stingily,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Soul II Soul,
Camouflage,
Colin Newman,
B.T. Express,
Brass Construction,
The Alarm Clocks,
Supertramp,
Aloha Tigers,
Groovy Waters,
Boogie Down Productions,
LL Cool J,
Public Enemy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Fall,
Lightning Bolt,
Livin' Joy,
Black Moon,
Minnie Riperton,
Glambeats Corp.,
Piero Umiliani,
The Index,
Nico,
ABC,
Soulsonic Force,
MDC,
Gregory Isaacs,
Thompson Twins,
China Crisis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rosa Yemen,
Moby Grape,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.