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 Bulgaria and from Taipei.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Taipei.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Half Japanese to the punk 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
The Martian,
MDC,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Human League,
Anakelly,
Masters at Work,
Goldenarms,
Pantaleimon,
Patti Smith,
Peter & Gordon,
Barclay James Harvest,
Brothers Johnson,
the Germs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ultra Naté,
Y Pants,
Wolf Eyes,
The Cowsills,
Morten Harket,
Scott Walker,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rites of Spring,
Howard Jones,
Roy Ayers,
Oneida,
Wire,
The Knickerbockers,
Rhythm & Sound,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
This Heat,
Khruangbin,
Josef K,
The Flesh Eaters,
ABC,
The Real Kids,
Mad Mike,
Slave,
Crime,
The Shadows of Knight,
Urselle,
The Selecter,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Hot Snakes,
Archie Shepp,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Maurizio,
Audionom,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Niagra,
Joe Finger,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fad Gadget,
Ten City,
DJ Style,
The Pop Group,
Soft Machine,
Iggy Pop,
June Days,
Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp..
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.