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 Kazakhstan and from Lyon.
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 Philadelphia and Taipei.
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 808 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 Eric Copeland to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 the Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blossom Toes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rosa Yemen,
Radio Birdman,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ten City,
The Gap Band,
Althea and Donna,
Iggy Pop,
Joensuu 1685,
Lucky Dragons,
Alice Coltrane,
Ronnie Foster,
Intrusion,
Eden Ahbez,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Angry Samoans,
Moebius,
The Music Machine,
Lebanon Hanover,
Robert Wyatt,
The Associates,
Fugazi,
Motorama,
The Dirtbombs,
Quadrant,
The Skatalites,
Morten Harket,
Japan,
Reagan Youth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Faraquet,
Whodini,
The Busters,
Pulsallama,
Goldenarms,
the Slits,
Bill Wells,
Symarip,
The Names,
X-102,
Tres Demented,
The Buckinghams,
Ice-T,
Joy Division,
The Victims,
The Barracudas,
Crispy Ambulance,
Surgeon,
The Last Poets,
Pierre Henry,
Donald Byrd,
Gastr Del Sol,
Deadbeat,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ossler,
John Cale,
Jeff Lynne,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.