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 India and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 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 Interpol to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Monks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sugar Minott,
The Index,
June of 44,
Dawn Penn,
In Retrospect,
Sixth Finger,
Groovy Waters,
Mo-Dettes,
Mad Mike,
Harry Pussy,
The Residents,
Deepchord,
Peter & Gordon,
Severed Heads,
Fat Boys,
Scion,
T. Rex,
Bootsy Collins,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobby Womack,
June Days,
ABC,
48th St. Collective,
John Holt,
Yusef Lateef,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Man Parrish,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Techniques,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
One Last Wish,
Scientists,
John Coltrane,
Gerry Rafferty,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Quadrant,
Slave,
The Human League,
Black Flag,
Iggy Pop,
Minor Threat,
Thee Headcoats,
Echospace,
Mandrill,
The Leaves,
The Young Rascals,
Audionom,
Black Pus,
Nick Fraelich,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lower 48,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Zeros,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The J.B.'s,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Hot Snakes,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.