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 Kazakhstan and from New York.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Hot Snakes to the disco 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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Visage,
Patti Smith,
Siglo XX,
The United States of America,
Gerry Rafferty,
Josef K,
Gregory Isaacs,
Al Stewart,
The Motions,
Pylon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Black Pus,
Kevin Saunderson,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jerry's Kids,
Godley & Creme,
Sun City Girls,
Kurtis Blow,
World's Most,
Buzzcocks,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Gun Club,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Cowsills,
X-102,
The Fortunes,
The Neon Judgement,
Popol Vuh,
The Five Americans,
Youth Brigade,
The Slackers,
Funky Four + One,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Das Ding,
Pere Ubu,
Section 25,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Evens,
D'Angelo,
Sister Nancy,
Isaac Hayes,
The Wake,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Index,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Metal Thangz,
The Busters,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ludus,
The Index,
DJ Style,
The Fugs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mad Mike,
Masters at Work,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Henry Cow,
Niagra,
Brothers Johnson,
Flipper,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.