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 Barbados and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Blackbyrds to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Groovy Waters. All the underground hits.
All DJ Sneak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MC5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Accadde A,
Warsaw,
The Vogues,
Lindisfarne,
Buzzcocks,
Gabor Szabo,
Lightning Bolt,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Man Parrish,
Agent Orange,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Peter and Kerry,
Yaz,
Eric Dolphy,
Skaos,
Kenny Larkin,
The Mummies,
Goldenarms,
Blancmange,
The Pretty Things,
Agitation Free,
Thompson Twins,
Basic Channel,
Erasure,
E-Dancer,
The Gun Club,
kango's stein massive,
Delta 5,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Funky Four + One,
Camouflage,
The Flesh Eaters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
New Age Steppers,
Wasted Youth,
the Bar-Kays,
Drexciya,
New Order,
Bill Wells,
Jandek,
Crooked Eye,
Donald Byrd,
Bluetip,
Mark Hollis,
The Black Dice,
Hasil Adkins,
Crispian St. Peters,
Junior Murvin,
Black Flag,
Soul Sonic Force,
Trumans Water,
Joey Negro,
Altered Images,
Monks,
Moebius,
Heaven 17,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Five Americans,
Sex Pistols,
Bauhaus,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.