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 Mexico and from Mumbai.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Edmonton.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
Wolf Eyes,
The Black Dice,
The Slackers,
The Golliwogs,
Todd Rundgren,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ludus,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mars,
Sandy B,
Pantytec,
Sarah Menescal,
Albert Ayler,
Warren Ellis,
The Sound,
The Gories,
Pussy Galore,
Trumans Water,
Ultra Naté,
Vainqueur,
Bootsy Collins,
Juan Atkins,
Essential Logic,
Mark Hollis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ken Boothe,
Second Layer,
Y Pants,
Jeff Lynne,
Little Man,
Delta 5,
The Seeds,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Fad Gadget,
Subhumans,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radiopuhelimet,
Glambeats Corp.,
Curtis Mayfield,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Laurel Aitken,
Jerry's Kids,
Harpers Bizarre,
Glenn Branca,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Moleskins,
Wasted Youth,
Monks,
Jawbox,
Bang On A Can,
Franke,
In Retrospect,
The Divine Comedy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Josef K,
Danielle Patucci,
Malaria!,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.