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 the UAE and from Manila.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Von Mondo. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
U.S. Maple,
The Cowsills,
The Real Kids,
Fear,
James White and The Blacks,
The Five Americans,
The Last Poets,
Zero Boys,
The Flesh Eaters,
Swell Maps,
Arab on Radar,
Lucky Dragons,
The Names,
The Happenings,
Vladislav Delay,
Hashim,
Patti Smith,
Bluetip,
In Retrospect,
Camberwell Now,
Ossler,
Panda Bear,
Arthur Verocai,
Wire,
These Immortal Souls,
Al Stewart,
Cameo,
John Foxx,
The Remains,
cv313,
KRS-One,
FM Einheit,
Pagans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Mojo Men,
Rotary Connection,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Barbara Tucker,
Bobby Sherman,
Stetsasonic,
Jesper Dahlback,
T. Rex,
Letta Mbulu,
Icehouse,
Lindisfarne,
Curtis Mayfield,
Roger Hodgson,
The Searchers,
Brick,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Magma,
Yaz,
Au Pairs,
Mandrill,
The Seeds,
The Zeros,
Angry Samoans,
The Durutti Column,
Q and Not U,
Aural Exciters,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.