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 Suriname 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ice-T to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Eddi Front,
Idris Muhammad,
Skriet,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
H. Thieme,
Deepchord,
China Crisis,
Toni Rubio,
The Blackbyrds,
Dual Sessions,
Kas Product,
Joe Smooth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ohio Players,
The Techniques,
Sam Rivers,
the Swans,
Crooked Eye,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Aaron Thompson,
World's Most,
Lou Christie,
Cameo,
Fugazi,
Bizarre Inc.,
Minny Pops,
The Gun Club,
The Evens,
Robert Görl,
Letta Mbulu,
Duran Duran,
Eden Ahbez,
The Misunderstood,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Skaos,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Five Americans,
Matthew Bourne,
Soul Sonic Force,
Amon Düül II,
Scientists,
Franke,
Suicide,
Country Teasers,
Youth Brigade,
Hot Snakes,
Wings,
Swell Maps,
The Sonics,
Joe Finger,
Technova,
Quantec,
June of 44,
Freddie Wadling,
Eve St. Jones,
The Pop Group,
Steve Hackett,
Black Moon,
Black Sheep,
Brick,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.