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 Bangladesh and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 theremin 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron 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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Stiv Bators,
Metal Thangz,
Laurel Aitken,
Black Pus,
Nas,
Black Moon,
One Last Wish,
H. Thieme,
Man Parrish,
These Immortal Souls,
The Wake,
Fear,
Whodini,
Dark Day,
Mission of Burma,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scratch Acid,
Cymande,
Moss Icon,
Desert Stars,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Minny Pops,
Average White Band,
Erasure,
Throbbing Gristle,
Warren Ellis,
Faust,
The Beau Brummels,
The Walker Brothers,
Patti Smith,
Parry Music,
The Sound,
Freddie Wadling,
Gerry Rafferty,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Matthew Bourne,
Drive Like Jehu,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Velvet Underground,
The Golliwogs,
Shuggie Otis,
The Raincoats,
Ponytail,
This Heat,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bootsy Collins,
Barry Ungar,
Pere Ubu,
Quando Quango,
The Mojo Men,
Yellowson,
Essential Logic,
The Trojans,
The Motions,
The Happenings,
John Lydon,
The Names,
Harpers Bizarre,
Archie Shepp,
Rhythm & Sound,
Radiopuhelimet,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.