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 Vietnam and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Hacienda.
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 Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Pussy Galore,
Fatback Band,
Deepchord,
John Foxx,
Q65,
Lalann,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kenny Larkin,
The Gories,
Wasted Youth,
Junior Murvin,
Intrusion,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fluxion,
Amazonics,
Rufus Thomas,
Dave Gahan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Delta 5,
Ash Ra Tempel,
David McCallum,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cheater Slicks,
MC5,
Hardrive,
Au Pairs,
Crash Course in Science,
Boredoms,
Mission of Burma,
Swell Maps,
Yellowson,
Tres Demented,
Drexciya,
Cybotron,
Monolake,
Average White Band,
Derrick May,
The Last Poets,
Brothers Johnson,
Neil Young,
Neu!,
Television Personalities,
Eden Ahbez,
Circle Jerks,
Minnie Riperton,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Real Kids,
Silicon Teens,
Eve St. Jones,
The Fire Engines,
Judy Mowatt,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Aloha Tigers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Y Pants,
Sight & Sound,
John Coltrane,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.