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 Mongolia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 güiro 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 48th St. Collective to the dance 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Smiths,
The Fire Engines,
Anthony Braxton,
Slave,
Todd Terry,
Rotary Connection,
Monolake,
Swans,
Eden Ahbez,
Franke,
John Cale,
PIL,
The Zeros,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Monochrome Set,
Joyce Sims,
Alice Coltrane,
Nation of Ulysses,
Chris & Cosey,
Rod Modell,
EPMD,
World's Most,
Faraquet,
Swell Maps,
Jandek,
Public Enemy,
AZ,
Bob Dylan,
DJ Sneak,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Walker Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Flesh Eaters,
Todd Rundgren,
Eve St. Jones,
Fad Gadget,
Rapeman,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Misunderstood,
Johnny Clarke,
Camouflage,
Johnny Osbourne,
Drexciya,
Radio Birdman,
Inner City,
Marc Almond,
The Velvet Underground,
Soft Machine,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Glenn Branca,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Smoke,
Q and Not U,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Al Stewart,
David Axelrod,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.