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 Czech Republic and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Lightning Bolt to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Von Mondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Skarface,
Mo-Dettes,
The Smoke,
Kenny Larkin,
R.M.O.,
Arcadia,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Dirtbombs,
Kerri Chandler,
The Sonics,
Amon Düül II,
The Fall,
Robert Görl,
Black Bananas,
Organ,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Robert Wyatt,
The Count Five,
Theoretical Girls,
Patti Smith,
The Doors,
MC5,
Drexciya,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Cowsills,
Dark Day,
Yellowson,
Severed Heads,
Lou Christie,
Rosa Yemen,
Eden Ahbez,
These Immortal Souls,
The Pretty Things,
Monolake,
Symarip,
Neu!,
Blancmange,
the Soft Cell,
Tres Demented,
Pole,
Unwound,
Sight & Sound,
Chris Corsano,
Kas Product,
James White and The Blacks,
Piero Umiliani,
Electric Prunes,
The Pop Group,
Eurythmics,
David Bowie,
The Happenings,
Sällskapet,
The Smiths,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Laurel Aitken,
Lindisfarne,
Curtis Mayfield,
John Lydon,
China Crisis,
Crooked Eye,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.