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 Qatar and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dead Boys to the dance 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Interpol,
Sight & Sound,
Camberwell Now,
Sound Behaviour,
a-ha,
Main Source,
The Count Five,
Faraquet,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cluster,
Section 25,
Maurizio,
Sixth Finger,
Audionom,
Black Moon,
Laurel Aitken,
The Black Dice,
This Heat,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Cramps,
Whodini,
Mad Mike,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Technova,
Smog,
Gichy Dan,
Barrington Levy,
The Blackbyrds,
Babytalk,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fatback Band,
Cameo,
Alphaville,
Michelle Simonal,
The Dead C,
Nas,
Byron Stingily,
Soul Sonic Force,
Piero Umiliani,
The Residents,
The Remains,
Masters at Work,
Young Marble Giants,
Bluetip,
Fear,
Albert Ayler,
Graham Central Station,
Sex Pistols,
Bootsy Collins,
Arthur Verocai,
Aswad,
DJ Style,
48th St. Collective,
Grey Daturas,
The Misunderstood,
Talk Talk,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Underground Resistance,
Letta Mbulu,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.