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 Turkmenistan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Charles Mingus to the dance 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Sixth Finger,
Barbara Tucker,
Gong,
Severed Heads,
Laurel Aitken,
Basic Channel,
The Pretty Things,
Marcia Griffiths,
MC5,
The Gun Club,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Moleskins,
Can,
Eve St. Jones,
The Monks,
Moebius,
Lungfish,
The J.B.'s,
Roxy Music,
X-102,
PIL,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Drexciya,
Angry Samoans,
The Dirtbombs,
The Cramps,
Gang Starr,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Peter & Gordon,
Monks,
Circle Jerks,
Max Romeo,
Franke,
Radiopuhelimet,
Aural Exciters,
The Velvet Underground,
Man Parrish,
Shuggie Otis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fear,
Graham Central Station,
Newcleus,
Country Teasers,
Morten Harket,
Alice Coltrane,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fugs,
Bluetip,
Lightning Bolt,
Grey Daturas,
Hasil Adkins,
Flipper,
Dead Boys,
Michelle Simonal,
The Slits,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.