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 Tanzania and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lagos.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Minnie Riperton,
Man Parrish,
Bush Tetras,
Donny Hathaway,
Mary Jane Girls,
Minor Threat,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Harry Pussy,
Sex Pistols,
These Immortal Souls,
The Happenings,
The Blues Magoos,
Jandek,
MDC,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lou Reed,
Kevin Saunderson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Crooked Eye,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Martian,
Black Flag,
Hashim,
Essential Logic,
Funky Four + One,
Subhumans,
Todd Rundgren,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tropical Tobacco,
Brick,
Blossom Toes,
A Certain Ratio,
Agent Orange,
Isaac Hayes,
Derrick Morgan,
Blake Baxter,
The Fall,
Pantaleimon,
Ultimate Spinach,
Reuben Wilson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Second Layer,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wings,
K-Klass,
Q and Not U,
Bauhaus,
Reagan Youth,
ABC,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
F. McDonald,
Joey Negro,
Fela Kuti,
Nas,
Morten Harket,
DNA,
the Swans,
Popol Vuh,
Radio Birdman,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.