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 Finland and from Lille.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 mellotron 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 Charles Mingus to the dance 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
Black Moon,
Rites of Spring,
Arab on Radar,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ice-T,
Leonard Cohen,
Flamin' Groovies,
Prince Buster,
Kayak,
DJ Sneak,
Ponytail,
Scientists,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Interpol,
L. Decosne,
Big Daddy Kane,
Crooked Eye,
Faraquet,
Con Funk Shun,
The Happenings,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roxette,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Moby Grape,
Pylon,
Heaven 17,
Zero Boys,
Q65,
The Smoke,
The Real Kids,
Neu!,
Stereo Dub,
Icehouse,
The Raincoats,
Mad Mike,
U.S. Maple,
Electric Prunes,
Wings,
Patti Smith,
Procol Harum,
The Techniques,
Massinfluence,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Germs,
Magazine,
Bootsy Collins,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Doors,
cv313,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Essential Logic,
James White and The Blacks,
Nik Kershaw,
Supertramp,
Tropical Tobacco,
Joensuu 1685,
The Invisible,
The Moody Blues,
Nico,
Liliput,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.