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 Algeria and from Jakarta.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 808 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 The Fugs to the punk 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Average White Band,
Slave,
Silicon Teens,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Modern Lovers,
Lower 48,
Dual Sessions,
Franke,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Quantec,
The Young Rascals,
Panda Bear,
Idris Muhammad,
Bad Manners,
Joy Division,
Jawbox,
Lucky Dragons,
The Blues Magoos,
The Mojo Men,
Don Cherry,
Thee Headcoats,
Heaven 17,
Make Up,
Symarip,
Dead Boys,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Residents,
Ken Boothe,
Talk Talk,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Moss Icon,
Bronski Beat,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Doobie Brothers,
Hasil Adkins,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
This Heat,
Black Moon,
Ronan,
Public Enemy,
The Smiths,
Albert Ayler,
The Buckinghams,
Archie Shepp,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Skriet,
Unwound,
Kurtis Blow,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kayak,
Electric Prunes,
Underground Resistance,
Pylon,
Ultra Naté,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ludus,
Altered Images,
The Real Kids,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.