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 Haiti and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Jeff Lynne to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Goldenarms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Joey Negro,
Second Layer,
Animal Collective,
Tears for Fears,
Judy Mowatt,
The Seeds,
Underground Resistance,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Busters,
China Crisis,
ABC,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Letta Mbulu,
Bill Wells,
Scion,
Robert Hood,
the Association,
The Gun Club,
Popol Vuh,
The Martian,
the Swans,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tropical Tobacco,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Byrd,
The Motions,
Unwound,
Aloha Tigers,
The Standells,
Icehouse,
Sun Ra,
Henry Cow,
Sister Nancy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kas Product,
X-101,
The Stooges,
Cal Tjader,
James White and The Blacks,
June of 44,
Brass Construction,
Sugar Minott,
Howard Jones,
Throbbing Gristle,
Magma,
The Monochrome Set,
Eric B and Rakim,
PIL,
The Detroit Cobras,
Juan Atkins,
Flipper,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Spandau Ballet,
The Angels of Light,
The Victims,
X-102,
Robert Görl,
The Index,
David Bowie,
Negative Approach,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.