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 Antigua and from London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drive Like Jehu,
Mars,
The Move,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Mummies,
Lalann,
Black Pus,
Rakim,
The Moleskins,
Hoover,
Rites of Spring,
Slave,
Gregory Isaacs,
Marvin Gaye,
Joe Finger,
Oneida,
Ken Boothe,
Magma,
Reuben Wilson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Reagan Youth,
The Fortunes,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Five Americans,
Fear,
the Normal,
the Germs,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pylon,
Chris Corsano,
10cc,
Tommy Roe,
Amon Düül II,
The Mojo Men,
Matthew Halsall,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Arthur Verocai,
Deadbeat,
Fad Gadget,
Echospace,
Jacques Brel,
The Wake,
David Bowie,
The Techniques,
X-102,
The Blackbyrds,
Smog,
The Red Krayola,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Parry Music,
Fugazi,
Whodini,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Henry Cow,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lou Christie,
Throbbing Gristle,
Delta 5,
The Doobie Brothers,
Matthew Bourne,
Massinfluence,
Altered Images,
Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu.
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.