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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Calgary.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the theremin 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 Mission of Burma to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Sällskapet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James Chance & The Contortions,
JFA,
Avey Tare,
New York Dolls,
Drexciya,
Gang of Four,
Steve Hackett,
T. Rex,
The Electric Prunes,
The Wake,
The New Christs,
Roy Ayers,
Radiohead,
Johnny Osbourne,
Warsaw,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Slits,
Oblivians,
Althea and Donna,
Cheater Slicks,
Gang Starr,
Maurizio,
Scientists,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bobby Womack,
Matthew Halsall,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Detroit Cobras,
Maleditus Sound,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Massinfluence,
Rapeman,
Iggy Pop,
Nirvana,
Ituana,
Nils Olav,
Dead Boys,
a-ha,
John Holt,
Technova,
Pole,
Todd Rundgren,
Intrusion,
Depeche Mode,
James White and The Blacks,
Eddi Front,
Morten Harket,
This Heat,
Ten City,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Move,
The Neon Judgement,
Stetsasonic,
Black Pus,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Star Department,
Babytalk,
Black Flag,
Brothers Johnson,
UT,
X-Ray Spex,
Neil Young,
Model 500, Model 500, Model 500, Model 500.
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.