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 Singapore and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the güiro 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 Lalann to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aural Exciters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Cameo,
The Cramps,
Banda Bassotti,
L. Decosne,
Gang Starr,
Royal Trux,
The Knickerbockers,
Bobby Womack,
The Trojans,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lakeside,
Suicide,
La Düsseldorf,
Godley & Creme,
Throbbing Gristle,
Alison Limerick,
Crime,
Ken Boothe,
a-ha,
Letta Mbulu,
Inner City,
Amazonics,
Popol Vuh,
U.S. Maple,
The Young Rascals,
E-Dancer,
Hot Snakes,
Circle Jerks,
Bad Manners,
DJ Sneak,
Drexciya,
The Dirtbombs,
Joy Division,
Bootsy Collins,
Agitation Free,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Matthew Bourne,
Black Sheep,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marmalade,
The Human League,
Mary Jane Girls,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Busters,
Sugar Minott,
The Angels of Light,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Mojo Men,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Red Krayola,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tommy Roe,
Angry Samoans,
The Grass Roots,
Y Pants,
Duran Duran,
Gil Scott Heron,
AZ,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.