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 the UAE and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Blues Magoos to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Crispy Ambulance,
Unrelated Segments,
Jeff Mills,
Grauzone,
Terrestrial Tones,
Curtis Mayfield,
Angry Samoans,
Marmalade,
B.T. Express,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Popol Vuh,
Slick Rick,
Barclay James Harvest,
Joensuu 1685,
Public Image Ltd.,
Echospace,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Stereo Dub,
The Star Department,
Minor Threat,
Sex Pistols,
The Mummies,
E-Dancer,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Average White Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
DJ Style,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Flesh Eaters,
Metal Thangz,
The Divine Comedy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Roy Ayers,
The Seeds,
Monks,
Erasure,
Bobby Sherman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Tremeloes,
Rufus Thomas,
ABC,
Symarip,
Kool Moe Dee,
Aural Exciters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Yazoo,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Names,
Blancmange,
Patti Smith,
Franke,
Archie Shepp,
Brass Construction,
Index,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jesper Dahlback,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tim Buckley,
Nirvana,
The Saints,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.