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 Seychelles and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 Davy DMX to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Jawbox. All the underground hits.
All E-Dancer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Half Japanese,
Ultra Naté,
Niagra,
CMW,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
MDC,
Mars,
Sandy B,
Infiniti,
Ludus,
Lalann,
Scrapy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jandek,
Echospace,
Pet Shop Boys,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wally Richardson,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gong,
Lou Reed,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lakeside,
Scan 7,
Lungfish,
Sarah Menescal,
B.T. Express,
John Coltrane,
Ultravox,
The Fall,
The Knickerbockers,
Barry Ungar,
The Cowsills,
Y Pants,
Ronan,
Johnny Clarke,
Henry Cow,
Suburban Knight,
The Zeros,
Derrick May,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Moss Icon,
Glenn Branca,
Amon Düül II,
Porter Ricks,
Nik Kershaw,
Mr. Review,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
T. Rex,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bizarre Inc.,
Neu!,
Erykah Badu,
KRS-One,
Faust,
The Kinks,
Boredoms,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.