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 Laos and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 güiro 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 Bang On A Can to the grunge 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 the Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
Joey Negro,
Mission of Burma,
The Divine Comedy,
Skriet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Robert Hood,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mr. Review,
Crash Course in Science,
Lightning Bolt,
Peter and Kerry,
Eve St. Jones,
Avey Tare,
Intrusion,
Stockholm Monsters,
Patti Smith,
Lyres,
Bad Manners,
Toni Rubio,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Alphaville,
Shuggie Otis,
The Pretty Things,
This Heat,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Happenings,
The Wake,
Iggy Pop,
T. Rex,
8 Eyed Spy,
In Retrospect,
Graham Central Station,
Pussy Galore,
The Zeros,
Theoretical Girls,
Vainqueur,
The Misunderstood,
New York Dolls,
Bush Tetras,
Nirvana,
The Buckinghams,
Babytalk,
The Victims,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Matthew Halsall,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Average White Band,
Interpol,
Archie Shepp,
Wire,
Henry Cow,
The Monochrome Set,
Oneida,
Lebanon Hanover,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.