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 United States and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Delhi and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 David Bowie 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 Bizarre Inc. to the jazz 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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Bluetip,
Dorothy Ashby,
One Last Wish,
Liliput,
The Misunderstood,
Swell Maps,
Gong,
Deadbeat,
The Fire Engines,
Supertramp,
The Gap Band,
AZ,
Alton Ellis,
Charles Mingus,
Minutemen,
K-Klass,
Monks,
Lou Christie,
Donny Hathaway,
H. Thieme,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lyres,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bobby Byrd,
Agent Orange,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pierre Henry,
Sound Behaviour,
Little Man,
Scan 7,
Chris & Cosey,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
kango's stein massive,
Audionom,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bootsy Collins,
Absolute Body Control,
Chris Corsano,
Todd Rundgren,
Pagans,
Soft Cell,
X-101,
Michelle Simonal,
Magma,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Wolf Eyes,
Negative Approach,
Ludus,
Excepter,
Skriet,
Wire,
The Young Rascals,
Bob Dylan,
The United States of America,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Last Poets,
Aural Exciters,
La Düsseldorf,
Mandrill,
Ponytail,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.