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 Ivory Coast and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Seeds to the jazz 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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Matthew Halsall,
Moby Grape,
Piero Umiliani,
The Cosmic Jokers,
DJ Style,
Brick,
Public Enemy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ronnie Foster,
Carl Craig,
Talk Talk,
Dave Gahan,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Robert Wyatt,
Section 25,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Porter Ricks,
The Toasters,
The Cowsills,
Deadbeat,
Jesper Dahlback,
Deakin,
Derrick May,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Pretty Things,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Saints,
B.T. Express,
Mo-Dettes,
Arab on Radar,
Skriet,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Crispy Ambulance,
Dawn Penn,
Alice Coltrane,
The Invisible,
Pierre Henry,
Gang Green,
Quadrant,
Tres Demented,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bronski Beat,
Oblivians,
Schoolly D,
Zapp,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tom Boy,
Laurel Aitken,
Sex Pistols,
The Happenings,
Peter & Gordon,
Joyce Sims,
Ultra Naté,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Little Man,
Au Pairs,
Man Parrish,
Peter and Kerry,
Television Personalities,
Ten City,
Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls.
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.