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 Sierra Leone and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 theremin 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 Malaria! to the electroclash 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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Davy DMX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
The Zeros,
Soulsonic Force,
Stiv Bators,
Oneida,
Ornette Coleman,
Can,
UT,
Suburban Knight,
The American Breed,
Cal Tjader,
Black Bananas,
Skriet,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
June Days,
Dave Gahan,
Bauhaus,
Harry Pussy,
Monks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
In Retrospect,
Visage,
Kool Moe Dee,
Barry Ungar,
Toni Rubio,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Trojans,
Bill Near,
The Happenings,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
PIL,
Lou Reed,
Blossom Toes,
Intrusion,
John Cale,
Jacob Miller,
Heaven 17,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Standells,
The Buckinghams,
Index,
F. McDonald,
Talk Talk,
Oblivians,
Gang Starr,
Scan 7,
Public Enemy,
Rosa Yemen,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Outsiders,
Amon Düül,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Trumans Water,
Bad Manners,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Sheep,
Max Romeo,
The Selecter,
Roger Hodgson,
Faust,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.