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 Nepal and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lyon.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 U.S. Maple to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All Ludus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Susan Cadogan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rites of Spring,
Angry Samoans,
David McCallum,
Prince Buster,
The United States of America,
Qualms,
Accadde A,
Bizarre Inc.,
Newcleus,
Fugazi,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Swans,
Khruangbin,
Scrapy,
the Association,
Inner City,
The Buckinghams,
Lightning Bolt,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Raincoats,
Charles Mingus,
Interpol,
Pantaleimon,
June of 44,
Mr. Review,
Yusef Lateef,
Marc Almond,
Nico,
The Black Dice,
Eric B and Rakim,
Roxette,
The Grass Roots,
Rod Modell,
Bob Dylan,
Kaleidoscope,
Roxy Music,
The Smoke,
JFA,
Letta Mbulu,
Tommy Roe,
Gichy Dan,
Maurizio,
H. Thieme,
Jerry's Kids,
Amon Düül II,
Kas Product,
The Mummies,
Derrick Morgan,
Wasted Youth,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Susan Cadogan,
Darondo,
Ronan,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rhythm & Sound,
Pole,
Yazoo,
Smog,
the Germs,
The Divine Comedy,
Animal Collective,
PIL, PIL, PIL, PIL.
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.