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 Benin and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Supertramp to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tommy Roe,
Scratch Acid,
Graham Central Station,
Scrapy,
Cecil Taylor,
Main Source,
Avey Tare,
Black Sheep,
Little Man,
Swans,
The Gories,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Glenn Branca,
Franke,
The Invisible,
Television Personalities,
Basic Channel,
Juan Atkins,
Derrick May,
Dennis Brown,
Symarip,
Kurtis Blow,
Faust,
Youth Brigade,
Leonard Cohen,
Wolf Eyes,
Johnny Clarke,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Crime,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pierre Henry,
Negative Approach,
Man Parrish,
Scan 7,
Model 500,
Darondo,
K-Klass,
Rosa Yemen,
Average White Band,
Rites of Spring,
Funkadelic,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
JFA,
The J.B.'s,
X-101,
Rufus Thomas,
Television,
Alton Ellis,
Jawbox,
Suicide,
Quantec,
the Normal,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Frankie Knuckles,
Morten Harket,
DNA,
David Axelrod,
La Düsseldorf,
Gabor Szabo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Suburban Knight,
Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani.
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.