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 Japan and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Flash Fearless,
Janne Schatter,
The Gap Band,
Lightning Bolt,
Agent Orange,
The American Breed,
Toni Rubio,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Skriet,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Robert Wyatt,
Aloha Tigers,
Pagans,
Pussy Galore,
Pole,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Nirvana,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
June of 44,
Bill Wells,
The Blackbyrds,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eric Copeland,
China Crisis,
The Divine Comedy,
Brass Construction,
Bobby Womack,
Masters at Work,
The New Christs,
The Stooges,
Rekid,
Al Stewart,
Organ,
Aural Exciters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Buzzcocks,
Von Mondo,
Pantytec,
Fatback Band,
The Blues Magoos,
The Buckinghams,
Cybotron,
Ituana,
David Bowie,
Blossom Toes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marmalade,
Icehouse,
Scott Walker,
the Germs,
The Happenings,
Gerry Rafferty,
Make Up,
Ten City,
Crispy Ambulance,
Infiniti,
Das Ding,
The Misunderstood,
John Foxx,
Gong,
Fear,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.