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 Solomon Islands and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar 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 Reagan Youth to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Visage,
Barrington Levy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Severed Heads,
Trumans Water,
Nico,
David McCallum,
Hasil Adkins,
The Pretty Things,
Fugazi,
Nas,
The Slackers,
Lightning Bolt,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Blues Magoos,
The Real Kids,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Cluster,
Eric B and Rakim,
Little Man,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Public Enemy,
In Retrospect,
ABBA,
Tomorrow,
Eli Mardock,
Prince Buster,
Sarah Menescal,
The Five Americans,
Albert Ayler,
the Human League,
Peter and Kerry,
Neu!,
Vladislav Delay,
AZ,
Subhumans,
Funkadelic,
8 Eyed Spy,
Clear Light,
The Birthday Party,
Gabor Szabo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joy Division,
Mark Hollis,
Eric Copeland,
Panda Bear,
Urselle,
the Soft Cell,
Hot Snakes,
Todd Rundgren,
Bootsy Collins,
Laurel Aitken,
Janne Schatter,
Mo-Dettes,
Carl Craig,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bill Wells,
Grauzone,
Eden Ahbez,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.