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 South Africa and from Mexico City.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kinks to the rap 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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All Essential Logic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Erasure,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Stooges,
Swell Maps,
Stiv Bators,
Lightning Bolt,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tim Buckley,
Mars,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ohio Players,
The Smoke,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Evens,
Urselle,
Lou Reed,
Sixth Finger,
Neil Young,
Donald Byrd,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Fall,
Cheater Slicks,
Pole,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Names,
Cymande,
The Divine Comedy,
Animal Collective,
Hashim,
Pulsallama,
Bauhaus,
Unwound,
Masters at Work,
Sarah Menescal,
UT,
the Sonics,
Jeru the Damaja,
Japan,
Section 25,
Nils Olav,
The Smiths,
The Walker Brothers,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Joe Smooth,
X-Ray Spex,
Gabor Szabo,
H. Thieme,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Jerry's Kids,
Marcia Griffiths,
Johnny Clarke,
DJ Style,
Pussy Galore,
Yaz,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.