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 Bahamas and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 arpeggiator 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 Cheater Slicks to the punk 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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Mission of Burma,
Scientists,
The Blues Magoos,
Y Pants,
One Last Wish,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Bang On A Can,
Tim Buckley,
JFA,
Robert Hood,
Tres Demented,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gichy Dan,
Aswad,
Agent Orange,
Essential Logic,
Cecil Taylor,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Excepter,
Aural Exciters,
Electric Prunes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Graham Central Station,
Danielle Patucci,
Smog,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lakeside,
Blancmange,
The Velvet Underground,
Jeru the Damaja,
MC5,
Lyres,
Cluster,
Juan Atkins,
Peter & Gordon,
Ossler,
Scrapy,
Judy Mowatt,
Altered Images,
Leonard Cohen,
Alison Limerick,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Technova,
Alice Coltrane,
Amon Düül,
Roy Ayers,
Mars,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pantaleimon,
Crime,
Radio Birdman,
New York Dolls,
Cameo,
Funkadelic,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Theoretical Girls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Avey Tare,
X-101,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.