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 Eritrea and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Grey Daturas 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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jawbox,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Dorothy Ashby,
Avey Tare,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Public Enemy,
Bootsy Collins,
The Divine Comedy,
Deadbeat,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lungfish,
Man Eating Sloth,
Charles Mingus,
Spoonie Gee,
The Grass Roots,
the Sonics,
Pere Ubu,
The Misunderstood,
Lower 48,
Thee Headcoats,
Fluxion,
Deepchord,
Main Source,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Heaven 17,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bizarre Inc.,
X-Ray Spex,
UT,
Eurythmics,
Roger Hodgson,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Crash Course in Science,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Nick Fraelich,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Youth Brigade,
Sam Rivers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Marc Almond,
This Heat,
The Human League,
Los Fastidios,
Colin Newman,
Anthony Braxton,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Black Flag,
Desert Stars,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Happenings,
Sparks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Idris Muhammad,
The Blues Magoos,
Oblivians,
Nico,
Ten City,
Freddie Wadling,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.