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 Canada and from Madrid.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Altered Images to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pagans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
Tim Buckley,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Offenders,
Lightning Bolt,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sällskapet,
8 Eyed Spy,
Swell Maps,
Banda Bassotti,
Swans,
Yellowson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Radiohead,
Tommy Roe,
Depeche Mode,
Soul Sonic Force,
Mr. Review,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Unwound,
Reuben Wilson,
Moebius,
Kerri Chandler,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Royal Trux,
Steve Hackett,
Girls At Our Best!,
Nas,
This Heat,
Derrick May,
Toni Rubio,
Bauhaus,
Kerrie Biddell,
Radiopuhelimet,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bush Tetras,
Japan,
Mars,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mary Jane Girls,
Judy Mowatt,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Angry Samoans,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Electric Prunes,
Thee Headcoats,
Hardrive,
Donald Byrd,
Chris Corsano,
The Neon Judgement,
Metal Thangz,
EPMD,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Brothers Johnson,
Max Romeo,
Radio Birdman,
Aloha Tigers,
Ultra Naté,
the Normal,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.