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 Mexico and from Lille.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the 808 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 Duran Duran to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Camberwell Now,
Unrelated Segments,
Ituana,
Khruangbin,
Lucky Dragons,
Dark Day,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lightning Bolt,
Pantytec,
Japan,
The Busters,
Bauhaus,
D'Angelo,
The Last Poets,
Oblivians,
48th St. Collective,
Jerry's Kids,
Althea and Donna,
Byron Stingily,
Lindisfarne,
Y Pants,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Erasure,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Junior Murvin,
The Barracudas,
Kayak,
Organ,
Harpers Bizarre,
Urselle,
Rufus Thomas,
Reagan Youth,
Pharoah Sanders,
Johnny Clarke,
Hot Snakes,
Pere Ubu,
Yazoo,
Wings,
Underground Resistance,
Black Flag,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Shoche,
Con Funk Shun,
Severed Heads,
Mars,
Neu!,
The Slackers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Vladislav Delay,
Intrusion,
Lyres,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Camouflage,
Hardrive,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Pretty Things,
The American Breed,
Magma,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.