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 Mali and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 chamberlin 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 Swans 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soul Sonic Force record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gong,
Steve Hackett,
Tropical Tobacco,
This Heat,
X-101,
Big Daddy Kane,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Porter Ricks,
Slick Rick,
Soft Machine,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ronan,
John Coltrane,
Quando Quango,
Schoolly D,
AZ,
Maleditus Sound,
Sound Behaviour,
Aloha Tigers,
Magma,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Slits,
Rapeman,
the Sonics,
Ornette Coleman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Panda Bear,
Sixth Finger,
Desert Stars,
Fear,
FM Einheit,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The American Breed,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sight & Sound,
La Düsseldorf,
The Litter,
The United States of America,
Blake Baxter,
Angry Samoans,
James White and The Blacks,
The Index,
Buzzcocks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Young Marble Giants,
The Red Krayola,
Rites of Spring,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Boredoms,
The Evens,
Piero Umiliani,
Franke,
Kurtis Blow,
Lower 48,
Talk Talk,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Soul II Soul,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.