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 Belize and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Jesper Dahlback to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Faust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Görl record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
The Fuzztones,
Terrestrial Tones,
Blossom Toes,
Blancmange,
Bob Dylan,
Scan 7,
Bobby Sherman,
Q65,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Deepchord,
Bootsy Collins,
James White and The Blacks,
Young Marble Giants,
Swans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Offenders,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Trojans,
This Heat,
John Lydon,
Alison Limerick,
John Foxx,
The Cowsills,
Black Moon,
Alice Coltrane,
Neil Young,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
China Crisis,
Nico,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scratch Acid,
Dual Sessions,
Pulsallama,
Flash Fearless,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wire,
Public Enemy,
Cameo,
JFA,
Inner City,
The Cramps,
John Cale,
Ludus,
Symarip,
The Toasters,
Soft Machine,
Gregory Isaacs,
Camouflage,
Kevin Saunderson,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Gladiators,
Stetsasonic,
Man Parrish,
Iggy Pop,
Television Personalities,
Cymande,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
T. Rex,
R.M.O.,
Make Up,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.