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 Antigua and from Hong Kong.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Byron Stingily to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Saints. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide 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?
Bluetip,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eurythmics,
Piero Umiliani,
Eli Mardock,
Soul Sonic Force,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Cale,
The Dirtbombs,
Lucky Dragons,
Smog,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Index,
Crooked Eye,
Porter Ricks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mission of Burma,
Mars,
The American Breed,
Q and Not U,
Minny Pops,
Man Parrish,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Charles Mingus,
Iggy Pop,
EPMD,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hot Snakes,
Amon Düül II,
Crash Course in Science,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Arthur Verocai,
Patti Smith,
The Cowsills,
Swell Maps,
Fatback Band,
The Slackers,
Max Romeo,
Echospace,
Junior Murvin,
The Standells,
Japan,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Knickerbockers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Heaven 17,
Cameo,
Jimmy McGriff,
Essential Logic,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mad Mike,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Excepter,
Isaac Hayes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mary Jane Girls,
Yazoo,
Sun City Girls,
The Skatalites,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Invisible,
Marvin Gaye,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.