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 Lesotho and from Houston.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Nirvana to the techno 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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Jandek,
Accadde A,
John Foxx,
Main Source,
Electric Prunes,
Minny Pops,
Marine Girls,
Aloha Tigers,
Loose Ends,
The Slits,
Derrick Morgan,
Underground Resistance,
The Standells,
Soft Cell,
EPMD,
Lyres,
Von Mondo,
Hardrive,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tom Boy,
Joy Division,
Nation of Ulysses,
Robert Görl,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Brand Nubian,
Kerrie Biddell,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Sound,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Albert Ayler,
the Bar-Kays,
Todd Rundgren,
Bill Near,
Sparks,
Sugar Minott,
The Gun Club,
Eric Dolphy,
Max Romeo,
Shoche,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ronnie Foster,
The Monks,
Supertramp,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Alarm Clocks,
James White and The Blacks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lower 48,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Fire Engines,
The Cowsills,
John Cale,
These Immortal Souls,
Peter & Gordon,
Infiniti,
Monolake,
Kenny Larkin,
Glenn Branca,
The Buckinghams,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.