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 Kyrgyzstan and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Zeros to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Doors. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
The Birthday Party,
Davy DMX,
The New Christs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Heaven 17,
James White and The Blacks,
Graham Central Station,
David McCallum,
Kenny Larkin,
Connie Case,
The American Breed,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Barbara Tucker,
Patti Smith,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pole,
Gang Starr,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Barracudas,
Man Parrish,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Derrick May,
Peter and Kerry,
Cheater Slicks,
June Days,
Saccharine Trust,
Neu!,
Organ,
Skriet,
Intrusion,
Scratch Acid,
Glenn Branca,
Livin' Joy,
World's Most,
Aural Exciters,
Cybotron,
Donny Hathaway,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gong,
David Axelrod,
Sugar Minott,
Arthur Verocai,
Aaron Thompson,
Ken Boothe,
Nas,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Victims,
Freddie Wadling,
Main Source,
Jeff Lynne,
Moss Icon,
Delta 5,
Electric Prunes,
Alice Coltrane,
Essential Logic,
Wings,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.