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 El Salvador and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 One Last Wish to the rock 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Black Pus,
Terrestrial Tones,
48th St. Collective,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Zeros,
Magma,
Carl Craig,
PIL,
Whodini,
Joyce Sims,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pantytec,
Judy Mowatt,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tim Buckley,
Barry Ungar,
Japan,
Don Cherry,
Connie Case,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Moody Blues,
DJ Style,
Agent Orange,
New Age Steppers,
Qualms,
Quadrant,
Crispian St. Peters,
Main Source,
K-Klass,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scratch Acid,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pussy Galore,
Audionom,
The Techniques,
Maurizio,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Pretty Things,
Donald Byrd,
Eric Copeland,
Sister Nancy,
The Toasters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Au Pairs,
Nick Fraelich,
Boz Scaggs,
Rod Modell,
Mad Mike,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fugazi,
The Dead C,
June Days,
Bobby Sherman,
Boogie Down Productions,
Yusef Lateef,
Ralphi Rosario,
Neil Young,
Malaria!,
Deepchord,
Gang Starr,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.