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 Malawi and from Mexico City.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the electroclash 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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Sixth Finger,
Zapp,
Fluxion,
Lee Hazlewood,
Hardrive,
Minutemen,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Derrick May,
The Kinks,
LL Cool J,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Pus,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Chrome,
OOIOO,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Brass Construction,
Rotary Connection,
Todd Terry,
Porter Ricks,
Erykah Badu,
Suburban Knight,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Index,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rapeman,
cv313,
Harry Pussy,
Quando Quango,
Boredoms,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Soft Cell,
Outsiders,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Parry Music,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tim Buckley,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Glenn Branca,
Tom Boy,
Eurythmics,
Blake Baxter,
The J.B.'s,
Morten Harket,
Minor Threat,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Motorama,
Swans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
K-Klass,
Sparks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Remains,
The Motions,
Rosa Yemen,
Sister Nancy,
Laurel Aitken,
Michelle Simonal,
Little Man,
Ronnie Foster,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.