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 Bahamas and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Jeru the Damaja to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bizarre Inc.,
Niagra,
Dead Boys,
The Modern Lovers,
Procol Harum,
Anakelly,
Ituana,
Eve St. Jones,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Mad Mike,
ABC,
Blancmange,
One Last Wish,
The Kinks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Interpol,
U.S. Maple,
Pagans,
Junior Murvin,
The Techniques,
Colin Newman,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Scrapy,
Bang On A Can,
Chris & Cosey,
The Monks,
Ralphi Rosario,
DJ Style,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Little Man,
The Tremeloes,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deepchord,
The Flesh Eaters,
Easy Going,
Inner City,
Mandrill,
Jeru the Damaja,
Quantec,
Chris Corsano,
Brick,
The Skatalites,
Alphaville,
Jimmy McGriff,
Faraquet,
Cal Tjader,
kango's stein massive,
Icehouse,
Neil Young,
Stiv Bators,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Music Machine,
The Alarm Clocks,
Urselle,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sister Nancy,
Crooked Eye,
June of 44,
Al Stewart,
Shoche,
Hoover,
the Association,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.