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 Estonia and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Aloha Tigers to the rap 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 The Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
Sight & Sound,
Scion,
Piero Umiliani,
Grauzone,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Names,
Junior Murvin,
Harmonia,
Rekid,
K-Klass,
Danielle Patucci,
Bill Near,
Silicon Teens,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Morten Harket,
The Real Kids,
Dual Sessions,
Ossler,
The Wake,
Boz Scaggs,
Joe Smooth,
Y Pants,
The Angels of Light,
La Düsseldorf,
The Durutti Column,
Mr. Review,
The Tremeloes,
Section 25,
Jawbox,
Kool Moe Dee,
Massinfluence,
The Index,
Drive Like Jehu,
Technova,
kango's stein massive,
Wolf Eyes,
The Selecter,
Rapeman,
Faust,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Camouflage,
Howard Jones,
The Dead C,
X-102,
The Seeds,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Alton Ellis,
Byron Stingily,
The New Christs,
Rites of Spring,
Tommy Roe,
Interpol,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Stooges,
Clear Light,
Andrew Hill,
Outsiders,
Bobby Womack,
Sarah Menescal,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.