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 Croatia and from Bologna.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 London Community Gospel Choir 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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals 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?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Boredoms,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Golliwogs,
The Victims,
The Real Kids,
Television,
The Cure,
Kayak,
The Evens,
Second Layer,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sandy B,
Wasted Youth,
Letta Mbulu,
The Saints,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Human League,
AZ,
Nico,
K-Klass,
Banda Bassotti,
Swell Maps,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bob Dylan,
Eric Copeland,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Patti Smith,
Sällskapet,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roger Hodgson,
Joe Finger,
the Slits,
Yusef Lateef,
X-102,
Barrington Levy,
The Raincoats,
Pagans,
Half Japanese,
Idris Muhammad,
Steve Hackett,
Yaz,
Gong,
Drive Like Jehu,
Q65,
Morten Harket,
Josef K,
Joy Division,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Associates,
The Barracudas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fear,
Scan 7,
Bootsy Collins,
Toni Rubio,
Reuben Wilson,
Blancmange,
Schoolly D,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.