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 Canada and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Glenn Branca to the dance 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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Gang Green,
Mr. Review,
The Sisters of Mercy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mark Hollis,
Dual Sessions,
X-101,
Black Moon,
Byron Stingily,
Jandek,
F. McDonald,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Flag,
Lower 48,
David McCallum,
Steve Hackett,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rakim,
Essential Logic,
Skriet,
Kaleidoscope,
Smog,
Soul Sonic Force,
The New Christs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Inner City,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Todd Rundgren,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Gun Club,
The Zeros,
Peter and Kerry,
Joyce Sims,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Nils Olav,
The Blues Magoos,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Doors,
Glambeats Corp.,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lalann,
The Victims,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Toasters,
Girls At Our Best!,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fat Boys,
Davy DMX,
Gang Starr,
Scan 7,
Stetsasonic,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Todd Terry,
The Move,
Archie Shepp,
Matthew Bourne,
Curtis Mayfield,
Y Pants,
The Names,
Dave Gahan,
Radiohead,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.