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 Ethiopia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 Glambeats Corp. to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Audionom. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Mad Mike,
Morten Harket,
Severed Heads,
Hasil Adkins,
Jeff Lynne,
Suicide,
Rapeman,
Ohio Players,
The Blues Magoos,
Scientists,
Tommy Roe,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Pop Group,
Anakelly,
Rakim,
Bobby Hutcherson,
FM Einheit,
Harmonia,
Ituana,
Susan Cadogan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Radio Birdman,
The Human League,
Cluster,
Motorama,
Traffic Nightmare,
ABBA,
Slave,
Organ,
The Mojo Men,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Tears for Fears,
Nation of Ulysses,
Slick Rick,
Whodini,
Reuben Wilson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Skarface,
Kayak,
Deadbeat,
Mo-Dettes,
Kaleidoscope,
Intrusion,
Ralphi Rosario,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sixth Finger,
The Fugs,
Boz Scaggs,
Soul Sonic Force,
Aural Exciters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Michelle Simonal,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lungfish,
Banda Bassotti,
Can,
Howard Jones,
Crime,
Lucky Dragons,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft.
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.