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 Gabon and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ultimate Spinach to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q65 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Traffic Nightmare,
Nils Olav,
B.T. Express,
Sparks,
Whodini,
Symarip,
Slick Rick,
Banda Bassotti,
Basic Channel,
Sixth Finger,
Suburban Knight,
Fluxion,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Groovy Waters,
Thompson Twins,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sex Pistols,
Hardrive,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ituana,
Bronski Beat,
Harmonia,
Motorama,
Country Teasers,
Barbara Tucker,
The Beau Brummels,
Gang of Four,
Black Moon,
the Slits,
Jerry's Kids,
Alphaville,
Freddie Wadling,
Pantaleimon,
Sam Rivers,
The Slackers,
The Fugs,
The Dirtbombs,
The Music Machine,
In Retrospect,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Yaz,
L. Decosne,
Yellowson,
Lee Hazlewood,
Visage,
Massinfluence,
Pierre Henry,
Boz Scaggs,
Gong,
The Motions,
The Blues Magoos,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Albert Ayler,
Outsiders,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lalann,
Pulsallama,
the Soft Cell,
The Vogues,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.