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 Bhutan and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 güiro 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 Crooked Eye to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Blossom Toes,
The Busters,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rapeman,
Sister Nancy,
Iggy Pop,
Qualms,
Byron Stingily,
Sixth Finger,
Gong,
Flash Fearless,
Yellowson,
Hasil Adkins,
Rakim,
Organ,
Mark Hollis,
Donald Byrd,
Hashim,
Roxy Music,
Sarah Menescal,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Saccharine Trust,
Lou Christie,
These Immortal Souls,
Joe Smooth,
Pantaleimon,
Dennis Brown,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Sonics,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Invisible,
Goldenarms,
Ituana,
Gang Starr,
The Dead C,
Lindisfarne,
Scratch Acid,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mission of Burma,
Eric Dolphy,
Lower 48,
Minnie Riperton,
Crispy Ambulance,
Leonard Cohen,
The Litter,
Johnny Clarke,
Traffic Nightmare,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Oblivians,
Brothers Johnson,
Jawbox,
The Last Poets,
Soft Machine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Boredoms,
Curtis Mayfield,
Godley & Creme,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.