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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 sitar 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 Nation of Ulysses to the punk 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 Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Funky Four + One,
Buzzcocks,
Magazine,
Dave Gahan,
Swell Maps,
Avey Tare,
Scan 7,
James White and The Blacks,
Cecil Taylor,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Sonics,
Minny Pops,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Newcleus,
Mandrill,
Y Pants,
World's Most,
OOIOO,
Bush Tetras,
Quando Quango,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bluetip,
The Litter,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Andrew Hill,
Aswad,
Tomorrow,
Inner City,
Ituana,
The Tremeloes,
Suicide,
Gang Green,
Ten City,
Eric B and Rakim,
Anthony Braxton,
The Cowsills,
Joe Smooth,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Angels of Light,
Visage,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deakin,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Beau Brummels,
Fear,
Albert Ayler,
Whodini,
Harmonia,
Leonard Cohen,
Q and Not U,
Skaos,
The Divine Comedy,
Susan Cadogan,
Thee Headcoats,
The Searchers,
Eve St. Jones,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Moody Blues,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.