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 Thailand and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 linndrum 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 Deadbeat to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
Aloha Tigers,
Pulsallama,
Mad Mike,
Gabor Szabo,
Crooked Eye,
The Birthday Party,
The New Christs,
The Misunderstood,
The Count Five,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ohio Players,
Suburban Knight,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Supertramp,
The Moody Blues,
Rapeman,
Erykah Badu,
Ludus,
Vainqueur,
Organ,
The Barracudas,
Bobby Womack,
Matthew Bourne,
David Bowie,
The Monks,
Accadde A,
La Düsseldorf,
Man Parrish,
The Gap Band,
Crime,
Roy Ayers,
Spandau Ballet,
Kurtis Blow,
Circle Jerks,
Blossom Toes,
Neil Young,
the Soft Cell,
Hot Snakes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pharoah Sanders,
Arthur Verocai,
New Order,
PIL,
The Slits,
One Last Wish,
The Busters,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Interpol,
June Days,
Monolake,
The Buckinghams,
Spoonie Gee,
The Modern Lovers,
Chris & Cosey,
Delta 5,
Wasted Youth,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Subhumans,
Funkadelic,
Pere Ubu,
The Motions,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.