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 Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sandy B to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
The Five Americans,
The Mojo Men,
Funky Four + One,
Saccharine Trust,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Andrew Hill,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Deadbeat,
Basic Channel,
Aloha Tigers,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Selecter,
Stockholm Monsters,
Severed Heads,
The Red Krayola,
Mars,
World's Most,
The Vogues,
Hardrive,
Fat Boys,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Blancmange,
Nico,
AZ,
Rufus Thomas,
The Dead C,
Bauhaus,
Monks,
Terry Callier,
ABC,
Spoonie Gee,
Wasted Youth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Don Cherry,
Ice-T,
Wings,
Michelle Simonal,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Camberwell Now,
China Crisis,
Cluster,
Negative Approach,
Alison Limerick,
Buzzcocks,
Spandau Ballet,
Fad Gadget,
the Germs,
The Kinks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roger Hodgson,
Rapeman,
Von Mondo,
John Coltrane,
Jeff Mills,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The J.B.'s,
Index,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nik Kershaw,
Gastr Del Sol,
Absolute Body Control,
Symarip,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.