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 Guatemala and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 H. Thieme to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Circle Jerks,
Lalann,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mad Mike,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Raincoats,
H. Thieme,
Duran Duran,
The Names,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sparks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Stooges,
Jimmy McGriff,
Japan,
Carl Craig,
Fatback Band,
Bobby Womack,
The Leaves,
The Blackbyrds,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Bananas,
Sex Pistols,
Khruangbin,
Robert Görl,
James White and The Blacks,
Babytalk,
Gichy Dan,
Judy Mowatt,
Model 500,
Robert Hood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Spandau Ballet,
Vladislav Delay,
Eddi Front,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gong,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tom Boy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Dead Boys,
The Smiths,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Charles Mingus,
John Lydon,
Inner City,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Symarip,
John Coltrane,
Donald Byrd,
Godley & Creme,
Dual Sessions,
David Axelrod,
the Swans,
Boz Scaggs,
The Dirtbombs,
Nirvana,
Los Fastidios,
Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown.
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.