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 Singapore and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr 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 spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harmonia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sonic Youth,
Kerri Chandler,
Graham Central Station,
Rhythm & Sound,
Los Fastidios,
Al Stewart,
Von Mondo,
Sound Behaviour,
Altered Images,
Rakim,
Bill Near,
Symarip,
Make Up,
Jandek,
The Gories,
Todd Terry,
Sexual Harrassment,
Minutemen,
Essential Logic,
The Index,
Guru Guru,
the Germs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Crime,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Khruangbin,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cluster,
Sister Nancy,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Normal,
Bronski Beat,
Whodini,
Joey Negro,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fluxion,
DJ Sneak,
Scientists,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Clear Light,
Bush Tetras,
The Leaves,
Gang of Four,
Soft Machine,
Popol Vuh,
Cybotron,
Black Moon,
Carl Craig,
Y Pants,
Circle Jerks,
Jawbox,
R.M.O.,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Modern Lovers,
Scan 7,
John Cale,
Eden Ahbez,
Unwound,
The Buckinghams,
Sun Ra,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.