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 Uzbekistan and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Tom Verlaine 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 H. Thieme to the grunge 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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
The Zeros,
Thee Headcoats,
Sex Pistols,
Con Funk Shun,
Spandau Ballet,
Charles Mingus,
David Axelrod,
Kool Moe Dee,
Country Joe & The Fish,
U.S. Maple,
Blossom Toes,
Pierre Henry,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mr. Review,
Pere Ubu,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ultra Naté,
Cameo,
The Gladiators,
Massinfluence,
Stereo Dub,
Slick Rick,
Franke,
Silicon Teens,
Easy Going,
Todd Terry,
The Trojans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Moss Icon,
Mandrill,
ABC,
The American Breed,
Junior Murvin,
Fluxion,
Tim Buckley,
Erasure,
Stetsasonic,
Nik Kershaw,
Cecil Taylor,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Human League,
Drexciya,
Eve St. Jones,
The Dirtbombs,
Rosa Yemen,
Motorama,
La Düsseldorf,
Rod Modell,
Subhumans,
Lyres,
Bobby Sherman,
Robert Görl,
Severed Heads,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Average White Band,
The Young Rascals,
Glenn Branca,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marshall Jefferson,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.