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 Barbados and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 Delhi and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Cramps to the grunge 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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Danielle Patucci 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
X-102,
the Normal,
Y Pants,
Arcadia,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Neon Judgement,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Isaac Hayes,
The Remains,
Masters at Work,
Jacques Brel,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Barry Ungar,
Pere Ubu,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Symarip,
Harmonia,
Parry Music,
Robert Wyatt,
Young Marble Giants,
Drexciya,
Connie Case,
Public Enemy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Camberwell Now,
Newcleus,
Dawn Penn,
Eurythmics,
Suicide,
Matthew Bourne,
Lou Reed,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dave Gahan,
The Fuzztones,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Blackbyrds,
Nico,
Steve Hackett,
The Grass Roots,
Au Pairs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Soft Cell,
T. Rex,
Motorama,
Franke,
Tres Demented,
Lakeside,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eve St. Jones,
Outsiders,
Sällskapet,
James White and The Blacks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fad Gadget,
The Raincoats,
Derrick May,
Oneida,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Yellowson,
Donny Hathaway,
X-Ray Spex,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.