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 Uganda and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro 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 Soft Machine to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flash Fearless,
The Slackers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ohio Players,
The Detroit Cobras,
Susan Cadogan,
Khruangbin,
Surgeon,
Maurizio,
The Young Rascals,
The Gap Band,
T. Rex,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pulsallama,
Peter and Kerry,
Hardrive,
Andrew Hill,
Leonard Cohen,
The Selecter,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Man Parrish,
Swell Maps,
Joensuu 1685,
Tropical Tobacco,
Maleditus Sound,
Soft Machine,
Brick,
Black Bananas,
John Coltrane,
The Modern Lovers,
Dave Gahan,
Monks,
The Real Kids,
Joe Smooth,
Y Pants,
the Fania All-Stars,
Heaven 17,
Dark Day,
PIL,
Public Enemy,
Lou Reed,
The Doors,
Ronan,
Amazonics,
Television Personalities,
Black Pus,
Swans,
Liliput,
Amon Düül,
Skarface,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dead Boys,
Lou Christie,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Gun Club,
Urselle,
Roy Ayers,
Tears for Fears,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.