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 Botswana and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Mr. Review to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Khruangbin,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Shadows of Knight,
Minor Threat,
Warren Ellis,
Dave Gahan,
World's Most,
John Cale,
The Misunderstood,
Laurel Aitken,
The Standells,
Harmonia,
Circle Jerks,
H. Thieme,
Underground Resistance,
The Monks,
Minnie Riperton,
ABC,
Robert Görl,
The Star Department,
Anakelly,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Names,
Urselle,
Joe Smooth,
Jesper Dahlback,
Black Pus,
The Buckinghams,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Tubeway Army,
Theoretical Girls,
The Detroit Cobras,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Agitation Free,
Max Romeo,
The Smiths,
Donny Hathaway,
Tears for Fears,
David McCallum,
Sexual Harrassment,
Freddie Wadling,
The Gun Club,
Rekid,
Rotary Connection,
Rhythm & Sound,
E-Dancer,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Gories,
Sällskapet,
Average White Band,
The J.B.'s,
X-101,
The Moody Blues,
the Germs,
KRS-One,
Malaria!,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.