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 Italy and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Dead C to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echospace,
Radio Birdman,
Wire,
Wasted Youth,
Rekid,
Newcleus,
Stetsasonic,
ABC,
The Velvet Underground,
DJ Style,
Nico,
The Techniques,
Brick,
Unrelated Segments,
Dead Boys,
The Human League,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Motions,
Eli Mardock,
Lyres,
Iggy Pop,
Archie Shepp,
Hot Snakes,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Prince Buster,
X-Ray Spex,
Heaven 17,
The Associates,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Cure,
Hasil Adkins,
the Fania All-Stars,
Henry Cow,
Angry Samoans,
Rufus Thomas,
Piero Umiliani,
Matthew Bourne,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Oneida,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fat Boys,
Blancmange,
Drexciya,
The Barracudas,
Funkadelic,
Donald Byrd,
Technova,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lucky Dragons,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Monks,
In Retrospect,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nirvana,
Theoretical Girls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joe Smooth,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Sonics,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.