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 Palau and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
Ken Boothe,
Minnie Riperton,
Erykah Badu,
Tropical Tobacco,
DJ Style,
Whodini,
The Standells,
Pagans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Marc Almond,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Monks,
Swans,
Chris & Cosey,
La Düsseldorf,
Jeru the Damaja,
T. Rex,
The Toasters,
The Index,
KRS-One,
Anakelly,
R.M.O.,
Severed Heads,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Selecter,
Harmonia,
the Fania All-Stars,
David Bowie,
Chris Corsano,
Robert Hood,
Smog,
Popol Vuh,
Crash Course in Science,
Little Man,
Skarface,
The Red Krayola,
Mandrill,
Fad Gadget,
cv313,
Babytalk,
Monolake,
Organ,
Cluster,
John Coltrane,
The Sound,
Aural Exciters,
FM Einheit,
the Human League,
Underground Resistance,
ABC,
The Beau Brummels,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mission of Burma,
Deadbeat,
Absolute Body Control,
Accadde A,
Dave Gahan,
Wolf Eyes,
Essential Logic,
David Axelrod,
Crispy Ambulance,
Oblivians,
Michelle Simonal,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.