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 Ecuador and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb 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 Walker Brothers to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Osbourne,
Animal Collective,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bang On A Can,
Talk Talk,
Main Source,
Eric Copeland,
Symarip,
Livin' Joy,
Minutemen,
Arthur Verocai,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Chris & Cosey,
Qualms,
The Black Dice,
Ultra Naté,
Sight & Sound,
Theoretical Girls,
Sex Pistols,
The Fall,
Marine Girls,
Vainqueur,
Barbara Tucker,
Black Pus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sixth Finger,
The Index,
Bizarre Inc.,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Organ,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
DNA,
Ohio Players,
Young Marble Giants,
Wally Richardson,
June Days,
Hashim,
Chrome,
Peter and Kerry,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Excepter,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Tim Buckley,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bobby Sherman,
Grey Daturas,
Gang of Four,
Whodini,
Soft Machine,
The Pretty Things,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Birthday Party,
Rufus Thomas,
Pierre Henry,
Tres Demented,
Buzzcocks,
The Mummies,
Donny Hathaway,
The Fuzztones,
Maleditus Sound,
Yellowson,
Fela Kuti,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.