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 Dominican Republic and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manchester.
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 chamberlin 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 Sister Nancy to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang on a Can All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Matthew Halsall,
The Cramps,
Black Moon,
Erasure,
Alice Coltrane,
Echospace,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ultimate Spinach,
Camberwell Now,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Roxy Music,
Television Personalities,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mad Mike,
Negative Approach,
Television,
Desert Stars,
Roy Ayers,
Yusef Lateef,
Wire,
Juan Atkins,
Shuggie Otis,
Cheater Slicks,
Bronski Beat,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fat Boys,
Al Stewart,
Nik Kershaw,
Sixth Finger,
Ituana,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nation of Ulysses,
Maurizio,
8 Eyed Spy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
John Foxx,
Cymande,
Au Pairs,
Index,
Dennis Brown,
Simply Red,
Tres Demented,
Kayak,
The American Breed,
Dark Day,
The Count Five,
Amon Düül,
The Blues Magoos,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Whodini,
Bush Tetras,
Organ,
CMW,
Shoche,
Godley & Creme,
Gichy Dan,
Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu.
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.