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 Norway and from Cairo.
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 Paris and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro 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 Max Romeo to the electroclash 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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Basic Channel,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Minnie Riperton,
The Real Kids,
Glenn Branca,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Agent Orange,
Man Parrish,
The Walker Brothers,
Reagan Youth,
Tubeway Army,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Drexciya,
Yaz,
Ralphi Rosario,
Nik Kershaw,
Black Sheep,
The Dirtbombs,
Technova,
Suicide,
Bad Manners,
The Cure,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Guru Guru,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Slits,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Normal,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ice-T,
The Leaves,
Echospace,
Sonic Youth,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Seeds,
Throbbing Gristle,
Hoover,
Adolescents,
Amazonics,
The Electric Prunes,
The Durutti Column,
Marine Girls,
Massinfluence,
David Axelrod,
Little Man,
The Beau Brummels,
The Young Rascals,
Rakim,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ronan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Qualms,
The Pretty Things,
The Cramps,
Harpers Bizarre,
H. Thieme,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Techniques,
Fad Gadget,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.