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 Eritrea and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Saints to the crunk 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ten City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Fear,
Visage,
Royal Trux,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Moleskins,
Tres Demented,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Fire Engines,
the Association,
Drexciya,
Slave,
Black Flag,
The Index,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
the Fania All-Stars,
June of 44,
Michelle Simonal,
Shuggie Otis,
X-Ray Spex,
Albert Ayler,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Echospace,
Average White Band,
Tom Boy,
Joey Negro,
Magma,
Sun City Girls,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Motions,
Stiv Bators,
Outsiders,
Kerri Chandler,
Subhumans,
Niagra,
Au Pairs,
David Bowie,
Altered Images,
Freddie Wadling,
PIL,
Massinfluence,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Darondo,
Wally Richardson,
Hashim,
Sex Pistols,
Lungfish,
Popol Vuh,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Bronski Beat,
Soul II Soul,
10cc,
48th St. Collective,
La Düsseldorf,
The United States of America,
Cluster,
Tubeway Army,
The Gladiators,
Blake Baxter,
The Buckinghams,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.