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 Mexico and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters 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 oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gang Green,
Newcleus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Radio Birdman,
Echospace,
Wally Richardson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cybotron,
Eden Ahbez,
One Last Wish,
The Sound,
Dorothy Ashby,
This Heat,
Index,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Junior Murvin,
Angry Samoans,
Ice-T,
Gichy Dan,
The Names,
Monks,
Second Layer,
Suburban Knight,
The Raincoats,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sarah Menescal,
Circle Jerks,
DJ Sneak,
Kayak,
Absolute Body Control,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Outsiders,
Audionom,
Jacques Brel,
The Monks,
Lindisfarne,
The Tremeloes,
Flamin' Groovies,
PIL,
Los Fastidios,
Marc Almond,
Anthony Braxton,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Depeche Mode,
The Vogues,
The Angels of Light,
Royal Trux,
Boz Scaggs,
the Human League,
the Bar-Kays,
Soft Cell,
The Barracudas,
Jeff Lynne,
China Crisis,
Intrusion,
U.S. Maple,
Kerri Chandler,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.