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 Angola and from Lyon.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Electric Prunes to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Thompson Twins,
The Toasters,
Lower 48,
Funky Four + One,
Q65,
Y Pants,
Marmalade,
Blancmange,
Electric Prunes,
MDC,
Todd Terry,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Black Moon,
Blossom Toes,
Circle Jerks,
Fatback Band,
The Smoke,
Silicon Teens,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
John Lydon,
The Velvet Underground,
Dave Gahan,
Altered Images,
Bad Manners,
Sister Nancy,
The Saints,
Pulsallama,
Angry Samoans,
The Trojans,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Gladiators,
Iggy Pop,
Funkadelic,
Soul Sonic Force,
Glenn Branca,
Popol Vuh,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Public Enemy,
Stereo Dub,
Freddie Wadling,
Peter & Gordon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Cymande,
Robert Görl,
Scratch Acid,
Peter and Kerry,
The Cramps,
Minor Threat,
Jesper Dahlback,
Camouflage,
Jeff Mills,
These Immortal Souls,
Faust,
Malaria!,
Duran Duran,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sällskapet,
Faraquet,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.