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 Ecuador and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Nik Kershaw to the grunge 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 The Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a L. Decosne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Fluxion,
Spoonie Gee,
Ice-T,
Model 500,
Tom Boy,
the Bar-Kays,
Gong,
Roxette,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bobby Womack,
The Electric Prunes,
Marc Almond,
Ohio Players,
Prince Buster,
New Age Steppers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Vainqueur,
Monks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Frankie Knuckles,
Brand Nubian,
Gichy Dan,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Moody Blues,
The Walker Brothers,
James White and The Blacks,
the Soft Cell,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bauhaus,
Skaos,
Black Bananas,
The Birthday Party,
Ultravox,
The Smiths,
Severed Heads,
Mr. Review,
The Mojo Men,
Derrick May,
Ponytail,
Youth Brigade,
The Trojans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Stereo Dub,
The Dirtbombs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Talk Talk,
The New Christs,
Black Pus,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Brick,
Faraquet,
Chris Corsano,
Vladislav Delay,
K-Klass,
The Fortunes,
Wings,
KRS-One,
Avey Tare,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.