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 Samoa and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 mellotron 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 Boz Scaggs to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Michelle Simonal,
Yazoo,
Gang Green,
The Monks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rhythm & Sound,
Fad Gadget,
Marc Almond,
Tres Demented,
Marmalade,
Scientists,
Darondo,
Metal Thangz,
Porter Ricks,
The Red Krayola,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scrapy,
U.S. Maple,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Walker Brothers,
Nik Kershaw,
Los Fastidios,
The Saints,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rakim,
The Knickerbockers,
Jawbox,
Harry Pussy,
Silicon Teens,
Donny Hathaway,
The Fortunes,
the Soft Cell,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bang On A Can,
The Modern Lovers,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Moleskins,
Subhumans,
Grauzone,
The Monochrome Set,
Arab on Radar,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bootsy Collins,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Flesh Eaters,
Neil Young,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Move,
Stiv Bators,
Sixth Finger,
H. Thieme,
Underground Resistance,
Ronan,
cv313,
Brand Nubian,
Gong,
Can,
Suicide,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.