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 Senegal and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Nils Olav to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
ABC,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Byrd,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Don Cherry,
Buzzcocks,
Morten Harket,
Suburban Knight,
Fluxion,
Eve St. Jones,
Crispian St. Peters,
Carl Craig,
The Residents,
La Düsseldorf,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kaleidoscope,
The Gun Club,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rakim,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Gap Band,
Underground Resistance,
The Neon Judgement,
The Martian,
Sight & Sound,
The Modern Lovers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Babytalk,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Busters,
Lou Christie,
T. Rex,
Nick Fraelich,
Rites of Spring,
The Raincoats,
Reagan Youth,
Derrick May,
Gerry Rafferty,
Colin Newman,
Moby Grape,
Hardrive,
Idris Muhammad,
Harpers Bizarre,
John Coltrane,
Shoche,
Minnie Riperton,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kerri Chandler,
Sparks,
The Black Dice,
Lightning Bolt,
H. Thieme,
Man Eating Sloth,
L. Decosne,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Can,
Massinfluence,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.