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 Cuba and from Spokane.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Donald Fagen 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 Electric Light Orchestra to the grime 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s 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 The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
The Birthday Party,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wings,
The Invisible,
Charles Mingus,
Interpol,
Slick Rick,
Alison Limerick,
Harry Pussy,
Mantronix,
Bush Tetras,
Curtis Mayfield,
Crispy Ambulance,
Smog,
Surgeon,
Minutemen,
a-ha,
Kas Product,
The Barracudas,
Aloha Tigers,
Fear,
John Cale,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Modern Lovers,
Newcleus,
Ten City,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Fluxion,
Judy Mowatt,
Brand Nubian,
Tres Demented,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Monochrome Set,
Peter and Kerry,
The Gun Club,
Reuben Wilson,
Lakeside,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Josef K,
cv313,
Deadbeat,
Rekid,
Davy DMX,
Pet Shop Boys,
These Immortal Souls,
The Misunderstood,
Los Fastidios,
Amon Düül,
The J.B.'s,
The Durutti Column,
New Order,
Radio Birdman,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Q65,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Neu!,
Tom Boy,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lebanon Hanover,
Liliput,
Soft Cell,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.