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 Tuvalu and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 arpeggiator 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 Porter Ricks to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Lou Reed,
Don Cherry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Scan 7,
Parry Music,
Nik Kershaw,
Animal Collective,
Erasure,
Lungfish,
Schoolly D,
The Moleskins,
The Dave Clark Five,
Spoonie Gee,
Neu!,
The Star Department,
The Offenders,
Man Parrish,
Gastr Del Sol,
Crime,
The Birthday Party,
Anakelly,
The Remains,
Aural Exciters,
Archie Shepp,
Camberwell Now,
Gang of Four,
The Pop Group,
Subhumans,
Public Image Ltd.,
Porter Ricks,
The Tremeloes,
Bobby Womack,
Robert Wyatt,
Lightning Bolt,
Make Up,
The Five Americans,
Oblivians,
The Wake,
Gil Scott Heron,
Flipper,
Reagan Youth,
Lou Christie,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tom Boy,
The Dirtbombs,
Nick Fraelich,
The Beau Brummels,
the Normal,
Pylon,
Quadrant,
The Martian,
Q and Not U,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Echospace,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dennis Brown,
AZ,
Fear,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Qualms,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.