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 Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 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 Brand Nubian to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Litter. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Crime,
John Foxx,
Sixth Finger,
R.M.O.,
L. Decosne,
This Heat,
Sarah Menescal,
Pantytec,
Joensuu 1685,
Angry Samoans,
Massinfluence,
Goldenarms,
Adolescents,
The Star Department,
John Cale,
Supertramp,
Swans,
Minor Threat,
Q and Not U,
Smog,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Byrd,
Motorama,
Sam Rivers,
Unrelated Segments,
Henry Cow,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Boredoms,
Black Flag,
Delta 5,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Bourne,
Peter and Kerry,
Mad Mike,
Magazine,
Aloha Tigers,
Clear Light,
Gang Starr,
Josef K,
Fugazi,
Electric Prunes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Chrome,
the Soft Cell,
The American Breed,
Von Mondo,
Young Marble Giants,
Bill Near,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jimmy McGriff,
The New Christs,
Deakin,
Babytalk,
Ludus,
Desert Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Eden Ahbez,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.