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 Nepal and from Beijing.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bang On A Can to the jazz 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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neu!,
Al Stewart,
the Bar-Kays,
Negative Approach,
The Red Krayola,
Connie Case,
World's Most,
The Offenders,
Magazine,
Eric B and Rakim,
Danielle Patucci,
The Kinks,
Freddie Wadling,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eurythmics,
June Days,
Adolescents,
Moebius,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Flipper,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Severed Heads,
Mary Jane Girls,
Porter Ricks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Heaven 17,
Crispy Ambulance,
Arcadia,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Johnny Clarke,
Glambeats Corp.,
Janne Schatter,
Joy Division,
Swans,
Visage,
Roger Hodgson,
Robert Görl,
Iggy Pop,
Marvin Gaye,
Todd Rundgren,
Letta Mbulu,
The United States of America,
The Martian,
Godley & Creme,
Angry Samoans,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Birthday Party,
ABC,
Smog,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Qualms,
The Raincoats,
Liliput,
Wolf Eyes,
UT,
Desert Stars,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.