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 South Africa and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Black Dice to the rap 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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All Agitation Free tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
the Germs,
Tim Buckley,
Sam Rivers,
Kerrie Biddell,
In Retrospect,
The Busters,
Laurel Aitken,
The Standells,
Boredoms,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Michelle Simonal,
Alton Ellis,
Jawbox,
Matthew Bourne,
Henry Cow,
The United States of America,
The Monks,
World's Most,
Kenny Larkin,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Deadbeat,
Swell Maps,
Echospace,
Lou Reed,
The Black Dice,
The Leaves,
Bang On A Can,
Radio Birdman,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Doors,
June of 44,
Index,
Wolf Eyes,
Popol Vuh,
Rosa Yemen,
The Blackbyrds,
Donny Hathaway,
Stetsasonic,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Robert Hood,
This Heat,
Motorama,
The Dirtbombs,
Absolute Body Control,
Barrington Levy,
Marc Almond,
Grauzone,
Tubeway Army,
Schoolly D,
Severed Heads,
Mission of Burma,
Chris & Cosey,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Y Pants,
Sällskapet,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Tres Demented,
Nils Olav,
Al Stewart,
Delon & Dalcan,
X-101, X-101, X-101, X-101.
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.