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 Fiji and from Delhi.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Knickerbockers to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boogie Down Productions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mission of Burma,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Iggy Pop,
Robert Görl,
Scan 7,
Lyres,
Deakin,
Stetsasonic,
Howard Jones,
The Cowsills,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Intrusion,
DJ Style,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Supertramp,
Arcadia,
The J.B.'s,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Chris Corsano,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Yellowson,
Von Mondo,
Brass Construction,
Fad Gadget,
La Düsseldorf,
Bill Wells,
Deadbeat,
Unwound,
Ohio Players,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sex Pistols,
Pantytec,
Althea and Donna,
The Offenders,
Godley & Creme,
The Mighty Diamonds,
R.M.O.,
Gil Scott Heron,
New Order,
Soft Cell,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Moby Grape,
Mark Hollis,
John Foxx,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sam Rivers,
Absolute Body Control,
The Victims,
Tubeway Army,
Motorama,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Todd Rundgren,
Dual Sessions,
the Fania All-Stars,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pussy Galore,
John Holt,
The Misunderstood,
The Gun Club,
kango's stein massive,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.