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 Sudan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fat Boys to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
The Mummies,
Carl Craig,
Parry Music,
Lightning Bolt,
Scientists,
Icehouse,
Scrapy,
The Leaves,
Stereo Dub,
Negative Approach,
UT,
The Angels of Light,
Robert Görl,
Guru Guru,
Barrington Levy,
Jawbox,
Eric Dolphy,
Agitation Free,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Walker Brothers,
Arcadia,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Slave,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Japan,
These Immortal Souls,
New Order,
The Flesh Eaters,
Peter and Kerry,
Janne Schatter,
Swans,
Derrick May,
Interpol,
Monks,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Names,
the Swans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wally Richardson,
Magma,
48th St. Collective,
Sällskapet,
Marc Almond,
Drexciya,
Lindisfarne,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Fortunes,
June Days,
Dead Boys,
Patti Smith,
Wire,
Isaac Hayes,
Robert Hood,
Man Eating Sloth,
Intrusion,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Warren Ellis,
Kaleidoscope,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.