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 Chad and from Woodstock.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 The Pretty Things to the rap 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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Camberwell Now,
Laurel Aitken,
Gang Starr,
Black Flag,
Kerri Chandler,
F. McDonald,
The Human League,
Swell Maps,
Eric Copeland,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Half Japanese,
The J.B.'s,
Sonic Youth,
The Cure,
New York Dolls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tomorrow,
The Remains,
Bobby Byrd,
Black Pus,
Flipper,
Scan 7,
Faust,
Unwound,
Los Fastidios,
Yaz,
Essential Logic,
Iggy Pop,
Glenn Branca,
Marcia Griffiths,
Oblivians,
Symarip,
The Index,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Faraquet,
Reagan Youth,
Sandy B,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Monks,
Yellowson,
Quantec,
Sunsets and Hearts,
48th St. Collective,
Mad Mike,
The Residents,
Model 500,
Siglo XX,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roxette,
Altered Images,
ABBA,
The Happenings,
Suicide,
R.M.O.,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Nirvana,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gories,
The Last Poets,
Nick Fraelich,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.