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 Brunei and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 arpeggiator 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 Black Pus to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Josef K 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Neu!,
The Count Five,
The Toasters,
Ultimate Spinach,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Grey Daturas,
F. McDonald,
Desert Stars,
Aswad,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Symarip,
Howard Jones,
Massinfluence,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
X-Ray Spex,
Lou Reed,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kerrie Biddell,
Skaos,
Procol Harum,
World's Most,
The Cowsills,
Rekid,
Hot Snakes,
The Monochrome Set,
Chrome,
Blancmange,
The Residents,
Brothers Johnson,
B.T. Express,
Siglo XX,
Hardrive,
Sister Nancy,
MC5,
Matthew Halsall,
Eden Ahbez,
Echospace,
Faust,
The Invisible,
Panda Bear,
Monks,
Second Layer,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Fortunes,
Nico,
Sex Pistols,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Stooges,
Prince Buster,
Television,
Terry Callier,
The Sonics,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Tears for Fears,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
David Axelrod,
Pierre Henry,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.