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 Marshall Islands and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 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 Wolf Eyes to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Skriet,
Dead Boys,
Matthew Bourne,
Harry Pussy,
The Vogues,
Pierre Henry,
The Mojo Men,
Quando Quango,
Urselle,
Nik Kershaw,
Metal Thangz,
Lee Hazlewood,
Theoretical Girls,
Tomorrow,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Normal,
Sandy B,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
John Lydon,
Agent Orange,
Pantaleimon,
China Crisis,
Fatback Band,
Lakeside,
The Victims,
The Searchers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Simply Red,
Toni Rubio,
Moebius,
CMW,
Glambeats Corp.,
Big Daddy Kane,
Shuggie Otis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Angels of Light,
Ice-T,
Andrew Hill,
Sex Pistols,
The Sonics,
The Skatalites,
Eve St. Jones,
Sällskapet,
Babytalk,
Man Parrish,
Depeche Mode,
Bill Near,
Jeff Lynne,
The Doors,
Minor Threat,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Monolake,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Liliput,
Anthony Braxton,
Laurel Aitken,
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.