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 Bhutan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 808 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 Gastr Del Sol 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
B.T. Express,
F. McDonald,
Porter Ricks,
Pantytec,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Vainqueur,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Schoolly D,
These Immortal Souls,
Alison Limerick,
Magazine,
Hashim,
Scion,
Suicide,
Model 500,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Letta Mbulu,
Brass Construction,
Ice-T,
The Dirtbombs,
Echospace,
Thee Headcoats,
Rotary Connection,
Q65,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
T. Rex,
Black Pus,
X-102,
Alphaville,
The Golliwogs,
Bill Wells,
Brick,
Arthur Verocai,
Hoover,
Scratch Acid,
The Selecter,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Modern Lovers,
John Cale,
JFA,
Grey Daturas,
Mr. Review,
The Alarm Clocks,
K-Klass,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The J.B.'s,
Amazonics,
Dawn Penn,
the Sonics,
Barbara Tucker,
Scientists,
Tommy Roe,
Country Teasers,
The Neon Judgement,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gabor Szabo,
Stereo Dub,
The Fire Engines,
Joe Finger,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.