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 Finland and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bang On A Can to the rock 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Faust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
The Mummies,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Invisible,
U.S. Maple,
Interpol,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bush Tetras,
The Dirtbombs,
Mo-Dettes,
Theoretical Girls,
David McCallum,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Real Kids,
Tommy Roe,
Con Funk Shun,
Ohio Players,
Tubeway Army,
Metal Thangz,
Ituana,
Motorama,
Reuben Wilson,
This Heat,
Brick,
The Pretty Things,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Erykah Badu,
Flash Fearless,
Al Stewart,
Youth Brigade,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Swans,
Steve Hackett,
Gang Starr,
Skriet,
The Martian,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Walker Brothers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bootsy Collins,
Loose Ends,
Charles Mingus,
Deakin,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Fela Kuti,
Oblivians,
The Move,
Scientists,
Radiohead,
Albert Ayler,
Joyce Sims,
Minny Pops,
The Modern Lovers,
Parry Music,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.