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 India 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Blackbyrds to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Von Mondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
Procol Harum,
Monks,
Lungfish,
Electric Prunes,
The Kinks,
Yellowson,
Rites of Spring,
Slave,
Smog,
Bobby Byrd,
The Raincoats,
Basic Channel,
Pharoah Sanders,
Motorama,
Blancmange,
Scan 7,
Sam Rivers,
Average White Band,
Patti Smith,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joensuu 1685,
Kas Product,
Pantytec,
U.S. Maple,
Fat Boys,
Panda Bear,
Amon Düül,
Make Up,
T. Rex,
Trumans Water,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rotary Connection,
Gil Scott Heron,
Soul II Soul,
MC5,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jesper Dahlback,
D'Angelo,
Pantaleimon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Crime,
Crooked Eye,
Connie Case,
Tubeway Army,
Unrelated Segments,
Mission of Burma,
Ludus,
The Smiths,
The Mojo Men,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Vainqueur,
The Doors,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Marc Almond,
Pussy Galore,
Guru Guru,
Urselle,
Hardrive,
R.M.O.,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Victims,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.