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 Egypt and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Toni Rubio to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
Byron Stingily,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Robert Görl,
Average White Band,
Talk Talk,
The Remains,
The Doobie Brothers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gil Scott Heron,
Oneida,
Donny Hathaway,
Sister Nancy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Depeche Mode,
Derrick Morgan,
Jacob Miller,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lungfish,
Neu!,
Mark Hollis,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Glenn Branca,
X-101,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bob Dylan,
The Leaves,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
One Last Wish,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Terry Callier,
Cal Tjader,
Erykah Badu,
Hoover,
Surgeon,
Sam Rivers,
Cheater Slicks,
Alice Coltrane,
The Smoke,
Urselle,
Sonic Youth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Magma,
Ultra Naté,
the Human League,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Judy Mowatt,
U.S. Maple,
Lyres,
Suburban Knight,
Alison Limerick,
The Dead C,
Flash Fearless,
La Düsseldorf,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Das Ding,
The Fire Engines,
The Skatalites,
Grey Daturas,
Joe Smooth,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.