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 Israel and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Woodstock.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Alarm Clocks to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Inner City,
Moebius,
Man Parrish,
Accadde A,
Vladislav Delay,
Jandek,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Beau Brummels,
Joe Finger,
John Lydon,
Ken Boothe,
Goldenarms,
Marmalade,
Gong,
Severed Heads,
The Martian,
Shuggie Otis,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Chris Corsano,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bob Dylan,
Spoonie Gee,
Monks,
the Sonics,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Red Krayola,
Al Stewart,
T. Rex,
X-102,
The Searchers,
Joe Smooth,
The Detroit Cobras,
Easy Going,
Magma,
Outsiders,
Altered Images,
Marc Almond,
Surgeon,
Pantaleimon,
The Durutti Column,
Bauhaus,
Albert Ayler,
Toni Rubio,
Hashim,
Mark Hollis,
Tears for Fears,
Frankie Knuckles,
Moby Grape,
Roxy Music,
Archie Shepp,
Faust,
Section 25,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Warren Ellis,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Vogues,
Radio Birdman,
Lindisfarne,
Mo-Dettes,
Make Up,
48th St. Collective,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.