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 Iraq and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 David Bowie 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the grunge 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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Lindisfarne,
Ornette Coleman,
Crash Course in Science,
The Residents,
Stereo Dub,
The Blues Magoos,
Eddi Front,
One Last Wish,
Max Romeo,
Joe Finger,
Adolescents,
Organ,
Bob Dylan,
Boz Scaggs,
Jerry's Kids,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Yusef Lateef,
La Düsseldorf,
Avey Tare,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Fuzztones,
China Crisis,
Jacob Miller,
Brand Nubian,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Flag,
Cluster,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Angry Samoans,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gichy Dan,
The Cowsills,
Howard Jones,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pantytec,
Peter and Kerry,
It's A Beautiful Day,
48th St. Collective,
The Black Dice,
Black Bananas,
Severed Heads,
The Happenings,
Robert Görl,
The Smiths,
Radio Birdman,
Dave Gahan,
Camouflage,
Judy Mowatt,
The New Christs,
Sight & Sound,
Bill Near,
Dawn Penn,
Sonic Youth,
This Heat,
Maleditus Sound,
The Divine Comedy,
Lou Reed,
Drexciya,
Qualms,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.