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 Austria and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar 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 Eli Mardock to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Mills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James Chance & The Contortions,
June of 44,
Sandy B,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Urselle,
Eli Mardock,
Faust,
Rufus Thomas,
Stetsasonic,
Minutemen,
Symarip,
Roger Hodgson,
Monks,
Blake Baxter,
Circle Jerks,
Janne Schatter,
Bluetip,
Camouflage,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Fortunes,
Ronan,
Panda Bear,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lou Christie,
Bob Dylan,
Cymande,
The Tremeloes,
The Buckinghams,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Mojo Men,
Derrick May,
John Coltrane,
Connie Case,
Dead Boys,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lightning Bolt,
OOIOO,
Mars,
Bill Wells,
Steve Hackett,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Aswad,
Crooked Eye,
Theoretical Girls,
Erykah Badu,
The Gladiators,
Thompson Twins,
Funkadelic,
the Sonics,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ossler,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Young Rascals,
Albert Ayler,
CMW,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Flamin' Groovies,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.