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 Venezuela and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Sound to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
The Invisible,
Excepter,
Archie Shepp,
Cal Tjader,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eli Mardock,
T.S.O.L.,
Graham Central Station,
World's Most,
The Smoke,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Walker Brothers,
The Real Kids,
Roxette,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Laurel Aitken,
Country Teasers,
Fat Boys,
Moby Grape,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sparks,
David McCallum,
The Monks,
Youth Brigade,
Tropical Tobacco,
Hoover,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Skaos,
Silicon Teens,
Schoolly D,
Ice-T,
Altered Images,
Rekid,
Eddi Front,
The Slits,
Electric Prunes,
The Litter,
Matthew Halsall,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Stockholm Monsters,
Flash Fearless,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Tremeloes,
Banda Bassotti,
Gastr Del Sol,
EPMD,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Star Department,
Black Bananas,
Whodini,
Funky Four + One,
Deakin,
Soft Machine,
Sam Rivers,
Warsaw,
Ossler,
Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance.
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.