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 Benin and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
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 The Kinks to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxy Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
cv313,
The Last Poets,
Sam Rivers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
DNA,
Skarface,
Joyce Sims,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rekid,
The Cowsills,
Arab on Radar,
OOIOO,
Steve Hackett,
Mission of Burma,
Avey Tare,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Animal Collective,
The Stooges,
Tropical Tobacco,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Wake,
Danielle Patucci,
Cybotron,
Scientists,
Carl Craig,
Suicide,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Zero Boys,
Con Funk Shun,
Altered Images,
Smog,
Dead Boys,
Boredoms,
Guru Guru,
Kevin Saunderson,
Parry Music,
Hardrive,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Symarip,
Funkadelic,
Jeff Lynne,
The Electric Prunes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Popol Vuh,
Nick Fraelich,
David McCallum,
Barry Ungar,
ABBA,
June of 44,
Buzzcocks,
Ken Boothe,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Barrington Levy,
Theoretical Girls,
Flash Fearless,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Idris Muhammad,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
H. Thieme,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.