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 Finland and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the rock 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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
The J.B.'s,
Darondo,
Unrelated Segments,
World's Most,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Nils Olav,
Janne Schatter,
Tres Demented,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Depeche Mode,
AZ,
The Invisible,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Slick Rick,
The Smoke,
Motorama,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
F. McDonald,
Goldenarms,
Radiopuhelimet,
Technova,
the Human League,
U.S. Maple,
Joy Division,
the Association,
One Last Wish,
The Cure,
ABC,
Porter Ricks,
The Sonics,
Amazonics,
Eric Dolphy,
Altered Images,
Sex Pistols,
Suburban Knight,
Soft Cell,
Mr. Review,
Tomorrow,
Pierre Henry,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Cramps,
Terry Callier,
La Düsseldorf,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Massinfluence,
The Cowsills,
The Barracudas,
Roxette,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Chrome,
Robert Wyatt,
Henry Cow,
Thompson Twins,
Mission of Burma,
Kayak,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Radio Birdman,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.