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 Paraguay and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 Bologna and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and a linndrum 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 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?
The Dave Clark Five,
The Moleskins,
Junior Murvin,
The Saints,
Bronski Beat,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lou Christie,
Adolescents,
New Order,
Los Fastidios,
Todd Rundgren,
Circle Jerks,
Duran Duran,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Slits,
Scan 7,
The Gladiators,
Second Layer,
Kurtis Blow,
Marc Almond,
The Fire Engines,
Connie Case,
Roxette,
Fatback Band,
A Certain Ratio,
the Germs,
The Smiths,
Can,
Patti Smith,
The Music Machine,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Index,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Index,
the Swans,
The Fall,
Tubeway Army,
Barry Ungar,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Wasted Youth,
Jacob Miller,
Popol Vuh,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Smoke,
Procol Harum,
This Heat,
Scratch Acid,
Jacques Brel,
Country Teasers,
The Victims,
The Mojo Men,
Drexciya,
Hoover,
Camberwell Now,
The Golliwogs,
Howard Jones,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Shadows of Knight,
Television,
UT,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Arcadia,
Eddi Front,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.