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 Togo and from Mexico City.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tokyo.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Robert Hood to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gichy Dan,
Lucky Dragons,
F. McDonald,
Flamin' Groovies,
Youth Brigade,
Popol Vuh,
Pole,
Camberwell Now,
Accadde A,
The Remains,
The Sonics,
The Fall,
This Heat,
The Real Kids,
Bang On A Can,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
cv313,
Wolf Eyes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lalann,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Slick Rick,
The Motions,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Shuggie Otis,
The Slits,
Todd Rundgren,
Jandek,
Siglo XX,
Yellowson,
Funkadelic,
Harry Pussy,
Alphaville,
New York Dolls,
The Leaves,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Guru Guru,
Rod Modell,
Excepter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ultra Naté,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Drive Like Jehu,
Visage,
Rotary Connection,
The Offenders,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Spoonie Gee,
DJ Sneak,
Los Fastidios,
the Human League,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Delon & Dalcan,
EPMD,
Porter Ricks,
The Modern Lovers,
AZ,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.