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 Saudi Arabia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 chamberlin 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 Robert Hood to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Radiopuhelimet. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Erasure,
The Pretty Things,
Fat Boys,
Ice-T,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eddi Front,
Marine Girls,
Livin' Joy,
Outsiders,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eric Dolphy,
Roy Ayers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gang Starr,
The Modern Lovers,
Arab on Radar,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wasted Youth,
Desert Stars,
Wire,
Arcadia,
Royal Trux,
Stereo Dub,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Association,
Hoover,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Marcia Griffiths,
Deadbeat,
Sister Nancy,
The Toasters,
Suicide,
Ronnie Foster,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lucky Dragons,
Infiniti,
The American Breed,
Intrusion,
The Dead C,
Juan Atkins,
ABC,
Schoolly D,
Aaron Thompson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Joe Smooth,
Aloha Tigers,
The Raincoats,
Joe Finger,
Robert Görl,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cure,
OOIOO,
Howard Jones,
Kurtis Blow,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
kango's stein massive,
Public Enemy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Searchers,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.