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 St Lucia 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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Grauzone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
The Martian,
Prince Buster,
The Mojo Men,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Accadde A,
John Foxx,
The Modern Lovers,
Blossom Toes,
Avey Tare,
The Searchers,
The Motions,
Nation of Ulysses,
Babytalk,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Standells,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Robert Wyatt,
John Lydon,
Y Pants,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Last Poets,
Maurizio,
The Slits,
The Saints,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Techniques,
Motorama,
Suicide,
Essential Logic,
Lightning Bolt,
The Durutti Column,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Electric Prunes,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Five Americans,
Archie Shepp,
Main Source,
Soul Sonic Force,
Masters at Work,
Aural Exciters,
Zero Boys,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Brick,
Jeff Mills,
Oneida,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
B.T. Express,
Barclay James Harvest,
Index,
Warsaw,
Bluetip,
Radiopuhelimet,
Visage,
Tres Demented,
Rapeman,
The J.B.'s,
Jandek,
Youth Brigade,
The Neon Judgement,
JFA,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.