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 Bangladesh and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barbara Tucker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Moss Icon,
Grandmaster Flash,
Porter Ricks,
The Red Krayola,
Supertramp,
Tom Boy,
Au Pairs,
DJ Sneak,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nas,
Mo-Dettes,
D'Angelo,
Quando Quango,
Minutemen,
The Dave Clark Five,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Television Personalities,
Icehouse,
Howard Jones,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tommy Roe,
Marine Girls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Babytalk,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Fugs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Davy DMX,
Unrelated Segments,
The Smoke,
Essential Logic,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Gun Club,
June Days,
Y Pants,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
World's Most,
Sixth Finger,
Symarip,
Liliput,
Wally Richardson,
cv313,
Depeche Mode,
Lucky Dragons,
Fluxion,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Reuben Wilson,
Con Funk Shun,
Warren Ellis,
Sarah Menescal,
The Victims,
Cybotron,
Joe Smooth,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lower 48,
Mantronix,
Zero Boys,
Monolake,
Jandek,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.