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 Ireland and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 snare 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 Yaz to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marine Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Malaria!,
The Neon Judgement,
The Pop Group,
Pagans,
Glenn Branca,
Jandek,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Gladiators,
the Sonics,
Ponytail,
Kaleidoscope,
The Toasters,
Au Pairs,
The Martian,
Ludus,
Alphaville,
Yellowson,
Parry Music,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Hoover,
The Move,
Erasure,
Mantronix,
Silicon Teens,
Model 500,
Dawn Penn,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Whodini,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Eric B and Rakim,
China Crisis,
Marcia Griffiths,
Blancmange,
Yusef Lateef,
Smog,
Goldenarms,
Gastr Del Sol,
Black Pus,
Surgeon,
Gang of Four,
the Normal,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Monks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sam Rivers,
Ossler,
Neu!,
The Dead C,
Barclay James Harvest,
Altered Images,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Buckinghams,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Bananas,
Babytalk,
Derrick May,
Camberwell Now,
Mad Mike,
Flash Fearless,
Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson.
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.