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 Luxembourg and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Panda Bear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
Ronnie Foster,
Mark Hollis,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Dead C,
Camouflage,
Lindisfarne,
The Searchers,
The Sonics,
Whodini,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Neon Judgement,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mr. Review,
JFA,
The Techniques,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jacob Miller,
Monolake,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Soul Sonic Force,
Neu!,
Janne Schatter,
Scratch Acid,
Outsiders,
Gabor Szabo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rapeman,
Pantaleimon,
Amon Düül II,
Livin' Joy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
This Heat,
The Modern Lovers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Inner City,
DNA,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Robert Hood,
Magazine,
the Normal,
Charles Mingus,
Black Flag,
Sun Ra,
New York Dolls,
Black Sheep,
Graham Central Station,
Royal Trux,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Hardrive,
Aloha Tigers,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Scott Walker,
Nico,
L. Decosne,
The Misunderstood,
China Crisis,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.