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 Jordan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 chamberlin 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 a-ha to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sparks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
Pylon,
The Buckinghams,
Sparks,
Pantaleimon,
Colin Newman,
Terry Callier,
Negative Approach,
Alison Limerick,
The Black Dice,
Eurythmics,
The Last Poets,
Donny Hathaway,
the Normal,
Nirvana,
the Slits,
Cecil Taylor,
The Dead C,
Don Cherry,
Peter & Gordon,
Fear,
Joy Division,
Newcleus,
The Fortunes,
Metal Thangz,
Arab on Radar,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Half Japanese,
R.M.O.,
Maurizio,
New Age Steppers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yazoo,
Radio Birdman,
New Order,
Nation of Ulysses,
Make Up,
Fluxion,
Sam Rivers,
Pussy Galore,
Niagra,
Mission of Burma,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jeff Lynne,
June of 44,
Rod Modell,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Los Fastidios,
Bad Manners,
Animal Collective,
Black Pus,
A Certain Ratio,
Stiv Bators,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Khruangbin,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
T. Rex,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.