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 Gabon and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the oboe 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 Throbbing Gristle to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
T. Rex,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ossler,
A Certain Ratio,
Camberwell Now,
Outsiders,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Zero Boys,
The Evens,
Suburban Knight,
Black Pus,
CMW,
Accadde A,
Barry Ungar,
Cluster,
Shuggie Otis,
Los Fastidios,
The Wake,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pulsallama,
Inner City,
Mad Mike,
The Techniques,
Heaven 17,
Tres Demented,
Delta 5,
Sister Nancy,
The Modern Lovers,
Scan 7,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
ABBA,
Lindisfarne,
Lalann,
Rod Modell,
Kerrie Biddell,
Malaria!,
Magazine,
The Beau Brummels,
Lucky Dragons,
Radio Birdman,
Monks,
Technova,
Bobby Sherman,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Don Cherry,
Spandau Ballet,
Robert Hood,
Roxette,
OOIOO,
Parry Music,
PIL,
Erykah Badu,
Mary Jane Girls,
Donald Byrd,
Rekid,
Flash Fearless,
June of 44,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.