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 Czech Republic and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Larry & the Blue Notes to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chris Corsano record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
New York Dolls,
Morten Harket,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rod Modell,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Neon Judgement,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Accadde A,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Flipper,
Alice Coltrane,
Brick,
the Soft Cell,
Deepchord,
Lou Reed,
The Index,
Joyce Sims,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
X-101,
Joy Division,
MC5,
Henry Cow,
Terry Callier,
Radiohead,
The Standells,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mad Mike,
Derrick May,
John Cale,
Fat Boys,
Aswad,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Mummies,
The Dave Clark Five,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
John Foxx,
Scan 7,
Crash Course in Science,
Clear Light,
Heaven 17,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Knickerbockers,
Carl Craig,
The Busters,
Nik Kershaw,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Roger Hodgson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Roy Ayers,
Mantronix,
The Gladiators,
Sun Ra,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.