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 Kuwait and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Magma to the techno 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Danielle Patucci record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
the Soft Cell,
Thee Headcoats,
Alphaville,
L. Decosne,
Pulsallama,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ultra Naté,
Pole,
Public Enemy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Massinfluence,
The Star Department,
Popol Vuh,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Brand Nubian,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mission of Burma,
Judy Mowatt,
Faraquet,
Marvin Gaye,
Girls At Our Best!,
Aaron Thompson,
Ossler,
Anakelly,
Ornette Coleman,
Cal Tjader,
June Days,
Swans,
Grandmaster Flash,
Stiv Bators,
Audionom,
Accadde A,
Lyres,
Pantaleimon,
Drexciya,
X-Ray Spex,
Lungfish,
Electric Prunes,
Todd Terry,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ultravox,
Model 500,
Robert Hood,
Deakin,
Harry Pussy,
Jacques Brel,
Stereo Dub,
Marshall Jefferson,
Junior Murvin,
Eli Mardock,
The Count Five,
Radiopuhelimet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Motorama,
Talk Talk,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rod Modell,
Quadrant,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.