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 Dominican Republic and from Milan.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Divine Comedy to the grunge 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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Malaria!,
Mary Jane Girls,
New York Dolls,
The Leaves,
Mark Hollis,
Groovy Waters,
Bobby Byrd,
Gang Starr,
Eli Mardock,
The Zeros,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Modern Lovers,
Joy Division,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Interpol,
Fear,
The Selecter,
Smog,
The Skatalites,
Ponytail,
Delon & Dalcan,
Radiohead,
48th St. Collective,
Motorama,
The Divine Comedy,
Tommy Roe,
Glenn Branca,
Michelle Simonal,
Banda Bassotti,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
AZ,
Soft Cell,
Piero Umiliani,
Skriet,
Thompson Twins,
Pylon,
Barrington Levy,
Outsiders,
Kool Moe Dee,
Hasil Adkins,
Wolf Eyes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
DJ Style,
the Fania All-Stars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The New Christs,
Saccharine Trust,
DNA,
The Misunderstood,
Neu!,
The Dead C,
Soft Machine,
Cluster,
The Sonics,
Amazonics,
Section 25,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
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.