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 Jamaica and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the jazz 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pagans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Godley & Creme,
Camberwell Now,
Lucky Dragons,
Eric B and Rakim,
Morten Harket,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Althea and Donna,
World's Most,
Faraquet,
Pagans,
The Mummies,
Flamin' Groovies,
Chrome,
X-102,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Black Flag,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Dirtbombs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Harry Pussy,
T. Rex,
Crispy Ambulance,
Henry Cow,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Rekid,
Sparks,
Bill Wells,
Minutemen,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lakeside,
New Age Steppers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Divine Comedy,
Sixth Finger,
Barry Ungar,
Supertramp,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Moleskins,
Roxy Music,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Velvet Underground,
Ralphi Rosario,
Little Man,
Deadbeat,
The Busters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ludus,
Country Teasers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
L. Decosne,
Traffic Nightmare,
Unwound,
Maleditus Sound,
The Sound,
Sällskapet,
Technova,
The Blues Magoos,
Royal Trux,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.