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 Belize and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Philadelphia.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 American Breed to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Michelle Simonal,
Man Eating Sloth,
Technova,
Niagra,
The Residents,
June Days,
Suicide,
Con Funk Shun,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Searchers,
Rosa Yemen,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gong,
Sun Ra,
Warsaw,
The Busters,
the Slits,
Connie Case,
Minutemen,
Peter and Kerry,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ornette Coleman,
Charles Mingus,
Janne Schatter,
Roxy Music,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang of Four,
Sugar Minott,
Arthur Verocai,
Kenny Larkin,
Livin' Joy,
Slick Rick,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
X-102,
Tubeway Army,
Jacob Miller,
Quando Quango,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Moss Icon,
Magma,
Godley & Creme,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rod Modell,
Malaria!,
The Smiths,
Fear,
Lyres,
Kerri Chandler,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Harpers Bizarre,
La Düsseldorf,
Surgeon,
Faust,
Iggy Pop,
Q and Not U,
T. Rex,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.