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 New Zealand and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Faust to the techno 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 Aswad. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
The Trojans,
The Slackers,
The Tremeloes,
The Raincoats,
Throbbing Gristle,
Minutemen,
The Litter,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tres Demented,
Letta Mbulu,
Bill Near,
Dave Gahan,
Albert Ayler,
Jesper Dahlback,
Dead Boys,
Terry Callier,
The Blackbyrds,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
New Order,
Organ,
Sixth Finger,
Traffic Nightmare,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kas Product,
Model 500,
Goldenarms,
John Coltrane,
Gichy Dan,
E-Dancer,
The Moleskins,
Smog,
Nik Kershaw,
The Fortunes,
Black Pus,
The Gun Club,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Masters at Work,
Scratch Acid,
Hashim,
The Cosmic Jokers,
DNA,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Faust,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Babytalk,
Rosa Yemen,
Josef K,
T. Rex,
Marshall Jefferson,
X-Ray Spex,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
a-ha,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tears for Fears,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Cecil Taylor,
The Fugs,
T.S.O.L.,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Nico,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.