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 Bhutan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Scratch Acid to the funk 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 LL Cool J. All the underground hits.
All Harmonia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Derrick May,
Sunsets and Hearts,
China Crisis,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lyres,
Albert Ayler,
Barclay James Harvest,
Television,
The Kinks,
Neu!,
The Last Poets,
Tomorrow,
Delta 5,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Buckinghams,
Massinfluence,
The Beau Brummels,
Sandy B,
The Smoke,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
John Holt,
Throbbing Gristle,
AZ,
Talk Talk,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ten City,
Quadrant,
Simply Red,
The Black Dice,
H. Thieme,
Los Fastidios,
Spoonie Gee,
The Index,
The Fortunes,
The Dirtbombs,
the Bar-Kays,
Nik Kershaw,
Black Flag,
Funky Four + One,
Aaron Thompson,
Johnny Clarke,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Peter & Gordon,
Crooked Eye,
Sonny Sharrock,
David Axelrod,
Gang Green,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Tres Demented,
Ultra Naté,
The Fuzztones,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Womack,
Country Teasers,
Deadbeat,
10cc,
The Modern Lovers,
The Gories,
Boogie Down Productions,
Organ,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.