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 Paraguay and from Copenhagen.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Halifax.
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 808 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 Theoretical Girls to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Bush Tetras,
Franke,
The Modern Lovers,
Altered Images,
Qualms,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
DJ Style,
Rapeman,
Wolf Eyes,
The Angels of Light,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tres Demented,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Crispy Ambulance,
Susan Cadogan,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Shadows of Knight,
Q and Not U,
PIL,
Quadrant,
Sällskapet,
The Music Machine,
The Vogues,
The Evens,
The Doobie Brothers,
Silicon Teens,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Subhumans,
Sparks,
Faust,
Groovy Waters,
Lungfish,
Metal Thangz,
The Red Krayola,
World's Most,
Byron Stingily,
Lalann,
Harmonia,
Chris & Cosey,
Pulsallama,
Rufus Thomas,
Adolescents,
Wally Richardson,
Lou Reed,
Boredoms,
Harry Pussy,
Derrick May,
Robert Wyatt,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sugar Minott,
Davy DMX,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Soulsonic Force,
The Neon Judgement,
Banda Bassotti,
Eurythmics,
Bronski Beat,
Pere Ubu,
Funkadelic,
Shoche,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.