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 Poland and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the funk 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Guru Guru,
FM Einheit,
Radiopuhelimet,
Banda Bassotti,
Livin' Joy,
Monolake,
Peter & Gordon,
ABBA,
The Monks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
UT,
Shoche,
the Germs,
KRS-One,
Rufus Thomas,
Animal Collective,
Accadde A,
The Invisible,
Funky Four + One,
Bang On A Can,
The Durutti Column,
Minutemen,
Tommy Roe,
The Black Dice,
Shuggie Otis,
The Angels of Light,
Yusef Lateef,
Sixth Finger,
Alison Limerick,
Johnny Clarke,
The Standells,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Real Kids,
Fat Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
These Immortal Souls,
One Last Wish,
The Blackbyrds,
Roxette,
X-Ray Spex,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Gun Club,
The Trojans,
Sonic Youth,
EPMD,
The Doors,
Boredoms,
The Smiths,
The Blues Magoos,
B.T. Express,
the Swans,
The Human League,
Fluxion,
The Index,
Gerry Rafferty,
Harpers Bizarre,
Panda Bear,
The Music Machine,
The New Christs,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.