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 Chad and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba 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 Aswad to the grime 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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Eyeless In Gaza,
New York Dolls,
Y Pants,
Scion,
Bob Dylan,
The Cramps,
Mo-Dettes,
Adolescents,
The Last Poets,
Crime,
Marcia Griffiths,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Sonics,
Kas Product,
China Crisis,
Cameo,
DNA,
Pole,
The Red Krayola,
Moss Icon,
The Wake,
Simply Red,
X-101,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bobby Womack,
Minutemen,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The American Breed,
Al Stewart,
Country Teasers,
Accadde A,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
John Cale,
Spandau Ballet,
Gastr Del Sol,
Todd Rundgren,
Urselle,
Infiniti,
Smog,
Outsiders,
David Axelrod,
Jeff Mills,
Juan Atkins,
The Leaves,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soulsonic Force,
R.M.O.,
Sex Pistols,
Ponytail,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Half Japanese,
The Motions,
Alphaville,
The Divine Comedy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Model 500,
Liliput,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Lydon,
LL Cool J,
Anthony Braxton,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.