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 Andorra and from Spokane.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Kas Product to the rap 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
June Days,
The Happenings,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Leaves,
The Real Kids,
Rapeman,
R.M.O.,
Chris & Cosey,
The Barracudas,
Aswad,
Oblivians,
Morten Harket,
Talk Talk,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Echospace,
Deadbeat,
Roxette,
Babytalk,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bill Wells,
Amon Düül II,
The Offenders,
Matthew Halsall,
Lebanon Hanover,
Letta Mbulu,
World's Most,
Graham Central Station,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Young Rascals,
Yusef Lateef,
Scott Walker,
John Holt,
Zero Boys,
Electric Prunes,
Roger Hodgson,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Golliwogs,
Average White Band,
Guru Guru,
Skaos,
Soft Cell,
Kurtis Blow,
the Human League,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Pus,
Angry Samoans,
The Red Krayola,
Minnie Riperton,
Chrome,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Doors,
Black Flag,
Bob Dylan,
The Vogues,
The American Breed,
The Selecter,
Nico,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dual Sessions,
Derrick Morgan,
Hasil Adkins,
Yellowson,
Procol Harum,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.