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 Sudan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Lou Reed to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Max Romeo,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Newcleus,
The American Breed,
The Detroit Cobras,
Peter and Kerry,
The Mojo Men,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Joyce Sims,
Erasure,
Nik Kershaw,
The Barracudas,
Royal Trux,
48th St. Collective,
The Gladiators,
John Foxx,
Sugar Minott,
Unwound,
Smog,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Young Marble Giants,
Mission of Burma,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roger Hodgson,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Basic Channel,
Byron Stingily,
The Shadows of Knight,
Delta 5,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Popol Vuh,
A Certain Ratio,
Sight & Sound,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bob Dylan,
Malaria!,
Blossom Toes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Surgeon,
Average White Band,
Fela Kuti,
Andrew Hill,
Jacques Brel,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Beau Brummels,
The Star Department,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Five Americans,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Prince Buster,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Public Enemy,
Spoonie Gee,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tomorrow,
Wolf Eyes,
Charles Mingus,
X-101,
Sexual Harrassment,
Robert Wyatt,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.