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 Equatorial Guinea and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Freddie Wadling to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Arthur Verocai,
Robert Hood,
The Beau Brummels,
The Red Krayola,
Fatback Band,
Faust,
Black Sheep,
Gang of Four,
Pet Shop Boys,
Los Fastidios,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Warren Ellis,
The Gladiators,
Flash Fearless,
OOIOO,
Funkadelic,
B.T. Express,
Joyce Sims,
Drive Like Jehu,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Audionom,
Anthony Braxton,
Icehouse,
The Walker Brothers,
Mark Hollis,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Black Dice,
Kool Moe Dee,
Hashim,
Television Personalities,
Tim Buckley,
Junior Murvin,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bobby Byrd,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lower 48,
Eden Ahbez,
The Names,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ronan,
Idris Muhammad,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gang Green,
Make Up,
The Barracudas,
Erasure,
Gil Scott Heron,
Clear Light,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Drexciya,
Index,
Agent Orange,
Dorothy Ashby,
Terry Callier,
The Neon Judgement,
Camouflage,
Thompson Twins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dave Gahan,
Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel.
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.