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 Burkina 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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bob Dylan to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin 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?
Index,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Minny Pops,
The Leaves,
Matthew Halsall,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Alison Limerick,
Blossom Toes,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marcia Griffiths,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sex Pistols,
Soft Machine,
La Düsseldorf,
Flipper,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Basic Channel,
Barclay James Harvest,
Slave,
Fugazi,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Raincoats,
The Selecter,
a-ha,
Eurythmics,
The Knickerbockers,
The Happenings,
Lou Christie,
D'Angelo,
Slick Rick,
Con Funk Shun,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Steve Hackett,
Malaria!,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ohio Players,
Lungfish,
The Last Poets,
the Association,
Prince Buster,
Visage,
Barry Ungar,
Infiniti,
The Angels of Light,
Half Japanese,
Essential Logic,
The Dead C,
June of 44,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Holt,
Hashim,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Swans,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Zeros,
Bill Wells,
The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five.
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.