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 Lithuania and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Shanghai.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Faust to the punk 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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & Metallica,
ABBA,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Seeds,
Derrick Morgan,
Mantronix,
Shuggie Otis,
The Index,
Malaria!,
Maurizio,
Simply Red,
The Vogues,
The Fall,
L. Decosne,
Piero Umiliani,
the Bar-Kays,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Move,
China Crisis,
Radiohead,
Sarah Menescal,
Sexual Harrassment,
Al Stewart,
Blake Baxter,
The Smoke,
Quantec,
Smog,
The Dead C,
Bill Wells,
Rekid,
Bob Dylan,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rakim,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Theoretical Girls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sparks,
Pierre Henry,
Max Romeo,
Joey Negro,
Grey Daturas,
Sällskapet,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jandek,
Urselle,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
A Certain Ratio,
Agent Orange,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Fire Engines,
Warsaw,
Darondo,
Agitation Free,
Sun Ra,
Roxette,
Avey Tare,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Minor Threat,
Terrestrial Tones,
Aaron Thompson,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.