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 Gabon and from Tehran.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Beau Brummels to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Glambeats Corp.,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Quando Quango,
The Gun Club,
The Black Dice,
Royal Trux,
Mad Mike,
Harry Pussy,
The Cramps,
Yazoo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lee Hazlewood,
Glenn Branca,
Chris Corsano,
Rosa Yemen,
Silicon Teens,
Ken Boothe,
The Fuzztones,
The New Christs,
Gabor Szabo,
Erasure,
These Immortal Souls,
Jacques Brel,
Tropical Tobacco,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Dead Boys,
Crime,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Icehouse,
Judy Mowatt,
Dawn Penn,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
10cc,
The Techniques,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The United States of America,
Sam Rivers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Marmalade,
Fear,
Godley & Creme,
Amazonics,
Public Enemy,
The Durutti Column,
Delta 5,
the Association,
Yellowson,
Grauzone,
Flash Fearless,
Trumans Water,
Camouflage,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sun City Girls,
Lightning Bolt,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Black Pus,
Bluetip,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.