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 Hungary and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the linndrum 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 In Retrospect to the grunge 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Swell Maps,
Faust,
Ice-T,
The Index,
Morten Harket,
Slave,
Talk Talk,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Moody Blues,
The Residents,
Fluxion,
Black Flag,
John Cale,
Joe Smooth,
Davy DMX,
Byron Stingily,
Half Japanese,
The Birthday Party,
JFA,
Camberwell Now,
Marvin Gaye,
The Toasters,
Youth Brigade,
Groovy Waters,
Steve Hackett,
Todd Rundgren,
T. Rex,
U.S. Maple,
Black Sheep,
Chrome,
Sparks,
Iggy Pop,
Ponytail,
Archie Shepp,
Kool Moe Dee,
New Order,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pere Ubu,
Soft Machine,
Rod Modell,
Pet Shop Boys,
Crime,
Livin' Joy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Pus,
Junior Murvin,
Public Image Ltd.,
Spoonie Gee,
CMW,
Sam Rivers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Mars,
Section 25,
Shuggie Otis,
Colin Newman,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Agent Orange,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.