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 Czech Republic and from Edmonton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Aswad to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Neon Judgement record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Easy Going,
Black Bananas,
Unrelated Segments,
Arcadia,
Ponytail,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jandek,
Suburban Knight,
John Coltrane,
Ice-T,
Grauzone,
Marc Almond,
Johnny Clarke,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Minor Threat,
Sällskapet,
Skriet,
Aloha Tigers,
Lyres,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cluster,
Colin Newman,
Faraquet,
Erasure,
The Standells,
Magazine,
Banda Bassotti,
Ituana,
EPMD,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Trojans,
Deakin,
Derrick May,
Michelle Simonal,
Wasted Youth,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Marmalade,
Rod Modell,
Girls At Our Best!,
Youth Brigade,
Accadde A,
Matthew Bourne,
Y Pants,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Doobie Brothers,
One Last Wish,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Slits,
Television Personalities,
Jeff Lynne,
Bauhaus,
Sparks,
Sun City Girls,
Frankie Knuckles,
Smog,
Television,
Stetsasonic,
MDC,
The Gories,
Chrome,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.