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 Fiji and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 arpeggiator 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 Banda Bassotti to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Ultravox,
Grauzone,
John Coltrane,
The Sonics,
Maleditus Sound,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
Loose Ends,
X-101,
Metal Thangz,
Television,
Second Layer,
The J.B.'s,
Scion,
Brick,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dawn Penn,
The Seeds,
Pagans,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Knickerbockers,
Monks,
Blake Baxter,
Bang On A Can,
The Angels of Light,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobby Womack,
Qualms,
Jacques Brel,
Surgeon,
Massinfluence,
Sugar Minott,
The Real Kids,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Robert Wyatt,
Cybotron,
The Motions,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Nick Fraelich,
Eden Ahbez,
Nirvana,
Tears for Fears,
Jeff Lynne,
Rotary Connection,
the Swans,
Black Pus,
Spandau Ballet,
the Human League,
The Smoke,
Make Up,
Mark Hollis,
Wolf Eyes,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Five Americans,
Echospace,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eli Mardock,
Davy DMX,
Half Japanese,
Janne Schatter,
Stereo Dub,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.