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 Namibia and from Shanghai.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Halifax.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Boz Scaggs to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Remains. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement 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 mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
Intrusion,
Reuben Wilson,
Outsiders,
Al Stewart,
Surgeon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ludus,
Gang of Four,
Drexciya,
Agent Orange,
The Beau Brummels,
Lee Hazlewood,
Black Flag,
Pussy Galore,
Technova,
Connie Case,
Faust,
Parry Music,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sonic Youth,
Dawn Penn,
Ultravox,
Black Moon,
Thee Headcoats,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Babytalk,
Lakeside,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Names,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Yazoo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bobby Sherman,
cv313,
DNA,
10cc,
Kayak,
Pole,
Scott Walker,
Andrew Hill,
Ituana,
Heaven 17,
Sun City Girls,
The Blackbyrds,
B.T. Express,
Interpol,
Wings,
Hashim,
Thompson Twins,
Fatback Band,
Fela Kuti,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Slick Rick,
Quadrant,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eurythmics,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gong,
Japan,
Smog,
Oblivians,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.