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 Haiti and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Man Eating Sloth to the grime 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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
The Slackers,
Fela Kuti,
Alton Ellis,
LL Cool J,
Motorama,
Jeff Lynne,
Cluster,
Graham Central Station,
The Martian,
The Last Poets,
a-ha,
X-102,
the Germs,
Black Moon,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Cale,
the Association,
Ossler,
Yellowson,
Radio Birdman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
H. Thieme,
The Knickerbockers,
Kurtis Blow,
Donny Hathaway,
Todd Terry,
Can,
Simply Red,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Camberwell Now,
Cheater Slicks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Quando Quango,
Porter Ricks,
Don Cherry,
Lightning Bolt,
48th St. Collective,
Danielle Patucci,
kango's stein massive,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Theoretical Girls,
Thee Headcoats,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pussy Galore,
Piero Umiliani,
Chris Corsano,
Fad Gadget,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Stiv Bators,
The Index,
The Fortunes,
Susan Cadogan,
Archie Shepp,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rosa Yemen,
Monks,
Technova,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.