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 Zimbabwe and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the grime 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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Mission of Burma,
Ludus,
Thompson Twins,
Smog,
Kenny Larkin,
Throbbing Gristle,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Icehouse,
Mo-Dettes,
These Immortal Souls,
Jerry's Kids,
Mr. Review,
Sex Pistols,
Juan Atkins,
John Lydon,
Blossom Toes,
Lyres,
The Doobie Brothers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Black Bananas,
Wire,
The Misunderstood,
The Count Five,
Shoche,
Rapeman,
The Toasters,
The Gladiators,
The Techniques,
F. McDonald,
MC5,
Stockholm Monsters,
Minor Threat,
The Index,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Surgeon,
Mary Jane Girls,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Ultra Naté,
Monks,
Sarah Menescal,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
KRS-One,
Darondo,
Patti Smith,
R.M.O.,
Brothers Johnson,
Tropical Tobacco,
Niagra,
Outsiders,
Derrick Morgan,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Basic Channel,
The Birthday Party,
Deepchord,
The Slits,
U.S. Maple,
Zapp,
The Alarm Clocks,
Zero Boys,
Robert Hood,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.