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 Kyrgyzstan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Columbus.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba 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 Banda Bassotti to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
Interpol,
Amon Düül,
Wasted Youth,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Accadde A,
Whodini,
Black Flag,
Peter and Kerry,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Fall,
Maleditus Sound,
Rufus Thomas,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Slick Rick,
Lungfish,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eden Ahbez,
Minor Threat,
Harmonia,
Tears for Fears,
Fear,
L. Decosne,
Alton Ellis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Trojans,
The Cure,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pharoah Sanders,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Rakim,
Robert Wyatt,
Susan Cadogan,
Robert Hood,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Chris Corsano,
OOIOO,
Altered Images,
David Bowie,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Human League,
kango's stein massive,
Sparks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Average White Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Man Eating Sloth,
David McCallum,
Arthur Verocai,
The Vogues,
Hoover,
Theoretical Girls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nik Kershaw,
the Swans,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Goldenarms,
The Music Machine,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.