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 Italy and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Throbbing Gristle to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Crooked Eye,
Blancmange,
Amazonics,
Y Pants,
Fluxion,
Yaz,
PIL,
The Sonics,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Siglo XX,
The Detroit Cobras,
Avey Tare,
Spoonie Gee,
Arcadia,
Infiniti,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cecil Taylor,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Black Dice,
The Misunderstood,
The Music Machine,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cheater Slicks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dave Gahan,
Piero Umiliani,
Hasil Adkins,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Buckinghams,
Nirvana,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Cymande,
Main Source,
Graham Central Station,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Simply Red,
Ossler,
Barrington Levy,
Kaleidoscope,
The Kinks,
This Heat,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Human League,
The Zeros,
Joyce Sims,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Babytalk,
Visage,
John Lydon,
Roxette,
One Last Wish,
Eli Mardock,
Section 25,
T. Rex,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pharoah Sanders,
10cc,
Scott Walker,
The Cramps,
Reuben Wilson,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.