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 Ivory Coast and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bologna.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the guitar 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 Saccharine Trust to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Yazoo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Sound Behaviour,
Gang of Four,
Tears for Fears,
The Electric Prunes,
The Techniques,
Blake Baxter,
Brass Construction,
Curtis Mayfield,
EPMD,
Dennis Brown,
David Bowie,
Derrick May,
Organ,
Tres Demented,
The Seeds,
Gang Starr,
Dead Boys,
Traffic Nightmare,
Popol Vuh,
Fugazi,
Camouflage,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Whodini,
Cameo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Arthur Verocai,
Tom Boy,
AZ,
The Martian,
Donny Hathaway,
Don Cherry,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Sonics,
the Sonics,
Tubeway Army,
Lalann,
Hoover,
Tommy Roe,
Wire,
Cheater Slicks,
Blancmange,
H. Thieme,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bad Manners,
Rufus Thomas,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Walker Brothers,
The United States of America,
One Last Wish,
New York Dolls,
David Axelrod,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Zero Boys,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Leonard Cohen,
The Moleskins,
Josef K,
Harry Pussy,
Derrick Morgan,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Johnny Osbourne,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.