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 Portugal and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the electroclash 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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ash Ra Tempel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Monolake,
Desert Stars,
Model 500,
Heaven 17,
Television,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rapeman,
Sound Behaviour,
Tres Demented,
Brothers Johnson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pere Ubu,
Marmalade,
Black Flag,
The Evens,
Kas Product,
Piero Umiliani,
The New Christs,
The Barracudas,
Gong,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Smiths,
Arab on Radar,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
DJ Style,
the Human League,
The Fortunes,
Silicon Teens,
Delta 5,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bobby Womack,
Das Ding,
Man Parrish,
Sam Rivers,
Mark Hollis,
Fugazi,
Carl Craig,
Unwound,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marc Almond,
Oblivians,
Babytalk,
H. Thieme,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Flash Fearless,
Dark Day,
Brick,
Freddie Wadling,
Todd Terry,
The Golliwogs,
The Pretty Things,
The Searchers,
Theoretical Girls,
Echospace,
Hot Snakes,
Japan,
Ice-T,
Kaleidoscope,
The Cramps,
Youth Brigade,
Jacob Miller,
Soul Sonic Force,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.