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 Latvia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Index to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Dead C. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Jesus and Mary Chain record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Smog,
Hashim,
U.S. Maple,
The Litter,
Lakeside,
Altered Images,
The Smoke,
Intrusion,
Terry Callier,
The Music Machine,
Mad Mike,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Byron Stingily,
Faust,
Gichy Dan,
Jacob Miller,
Essential Logic,
China Crisis,
Bush Tetras,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Modern Lovers,
The Dave Clark Five,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tubeway Army,
Alphaville,
Pylon,
Robert Hood,
Godley & Creme,
Average White Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scion,
JFA,
FM Einheit,
Gabor Szabo,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Raincoats,
Absolute Body Control,
Rites of Spring,
Desert Stars,
Scan 7,
Terrestrial Tones,
Electric Prunes,
Dawn Penn,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Mummies,
Deadbeat,
Sparks,
Jeff Lynne,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David McCallum,
Monolake,
Roxette,
Audionom,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Dirtbombs,
Popol Vuh,
Inner City,
Masters at Work,
Bronski Beat,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.