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 Brazil and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Moss Icon to the grime 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
UT,
Cal Tjader,
Nico,
Minny Pops,
Sonny Sharrock,
Crash Course in Science,
The Trojans,
Eve St. Jones,
The Offenders,
Basic Channel,
Maleditus Sound,
T.S.O.L.,
Lebanon Hanover,
Idris Muhammad,
Deadbeat,
Wasted Youth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Suicide,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bauhaus,
The Slackers,
Brothers Johnson,
Sällskapet,
Scott Walker,
Stereo Dub,
Whodini,
FM Einheit,
Liliput,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Camberwell Now,
The Birthday Party,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ohio Players,
Pierre Henry,
Thee Headcoats,
The Litter,
The Cure,
The Dead C,
Vladislav Delay,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Reagan Youth,
Theoretical Girls,
The Golliwogs,
kango's stein massive,
Bobby Byrd,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Detroit Cobras,
Tres Demented,
Gang Green,
Index,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Altered Images,
Audionom,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Guru Guru,
Davy DMX,
the Bar-Kays,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Swans,
The Black Dice,
Duran Duran,
Pagans,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.