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 Korea North and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Michael McDonald 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 Crash Course in Science to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
Rod Modell,
X-102,
Blossom Toes,
Eli Mardock,
Adolescents,
Saccharine Trust,
Leonard Cohen,
Brick,
Derrick May,
The Slits,
Magma,
K-Klass,
Jeff Lynne,
Terry Callier,
Khruangbin,
Mandrill,
Mo-Dettes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Whodini,
The Invisible,
Simply Red,
ABC,
Aloha Tigers,
Los Fastidios,
Sonny Sharrock,
Symarip,
Silicon Teens,
Glenn Branca,
Morten Harket,
Nas,
The Slackers,
Cameo,
Dead Boys,
Laurel Aitken,
Gregory Isaacs,
Neu!,
Pantytec,
Tomorrow,
Howard Jones,
Wings,
X-Ray Spex,
Sixth Finger,
Graham Central Station,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Magazine,
Lyres,
The Monochrome Set,
Royal Trux,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pagans,
The Real Kids,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jacob Miller,
The Skatalites,
The Move,
Kerri Chandler,
The Misunderstood,
Monolake,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.