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 Liberia and from Edmonton.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 T. Rex to the rap 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 Quadrant. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unrelated Segments record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Kayak,
Faraquet,
Eddi Front,
The Selecter,
Mary Jane Girls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Metal Thangz,
Black Bananas,
The Misunderstood,
Spandau Ballet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Electric Prunes,
Gregory Isaacs,
a-ha,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Standells,
The Cosmic Jokers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Barry Ungar,
Cecil Taylor,
Tubeway Army,
The Modern Lovers,
Pantytec,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pet Shop Boys,
Kevin Saunderson,
Monks,
the Human League,
Lou Reed,
The Cure,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Trojans,
the Soft Cell,
Can,
Althea and Donna,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wolf Eyes,
R.M.O.,
Bad Manners,
Minutemen,
Y Pants,
The Offenders,
Nas,
Dave Gahan,
Ralphi Rosario,
The United States of America,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Zapp,
Joey Negro,
MDC,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lindisfarne,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Circle Jerks,
Marine Girls,
Trumans Water,
H. Thieme,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ludus,
Brand Nubian,
Magazine,
The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group.
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.