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 Sierra Leone and from London.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bang On A Can to the jazz 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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Sugar Minott,
The Wake,
Pantaleimon,
Make Up,
Hardrive,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Morten Harket,
Skaos,
The Neon Judgement,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lou Reed,
Oneida,
Sandy B,
X-Ray Spex,
48th St. Collective,
Tres Demented,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
T.S.O.L.,
Aloha Tigers,
Aural Exciters,
Al Stewart,
Swell Maps,
Stereo Dub,
Rites of Spring,
Tears for Fears,
Goldenarms,
Sex Pistols,
Sam Rivers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The J.B.'s,
Fat Boys,
Bill Near,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Angry Samoans,
Roger Hodgson,
The Golliwogs,
Deepchord,
Gong,
Symarip,
the Association,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bobby Sherman,
The Monks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Thompson Twins,
The Gladiators,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ronan,
Deadbeat,
Radiopuhelimet,
Juan Atkins,
Can,
The Evens,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
One Last Wish,
New Age Steppers,
Patti Smith,
Henry Cow,
Dennis Brown,
Guru Guru,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.