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 Nauru and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 the Sonics to the electroclash 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monochrome Set,
Sixth Finger,
Fluxion,
Freddie Wadling,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Neu!,
Von Mondo,
The Fuzztones,
The Misunderstood,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Das Ding,
Derrick May,
Sexual Harrassment,
Skaos,
Alton Ellis,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Erasure,
Cecil Taylor,
Henry Cow,
Robert Hood,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Urselle,
Cal Tjader,
Kenny Larkin,
LL Cool J,
Warren Ellis,
Quadrant,
Thompson Twins,
Infiniti,
Boredoms,
Suicide,
Pagans,
Shuggie Otis,
Vainqueur,
James White and The Blacks,
Animal Collective,
Young Marble Giants,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jeru the Damaja,
Albert Ayler,
Fad Gadget,
Lightning Bolt,
In Retrospect,
Malaria!,
Bob Dylan,
Lebanon Hanover,
Piero Umiliani,
Dead Boys,
CMW,
Clear Light,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Supertramp,
The Dirtbombs,
The Mummies,
The Modern Lovers,
Boogie Down Productions,
Second Layer,
Aural Exciters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Technova,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.