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 Spain and from Cairo.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The American Breed to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Saints,
The Divine Comedy,
Eli Mardock,
Faust,
Stockholm Monsters,
Stereo Dub,
Scion,
Mark Hollis,
The Busters,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Gregory Isaacs,
Piero Umiliani,
Charles Mingus,
Alphaville,
Todd Rundgren,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Black Dice,
Easy Going,
Connie Case,
The Associates,
Crime,
David Bowie,
Fela Kuti,
Erasure,
These Immortal Souls,
Procol Harum,
The Fugs,
World's Most,
Marcia Griffiths,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Isaac Hayes,
Tears for Fears,
Gabor Szabo,
Average White Band,
Spoonie Gee,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Hoover,
Marmalade,
Skarface,
The Zeros,
Reagan Youth,
The Vogues,
Barbara Tucker,
Michelle Simonal,
the Soft Cell,
Panda Bear,
Grandmaster Flash,
Don Cherry,
ABC,
Circle Jerks,
The Names,
Todd Terry,
Mo-Dettes,
Con Funk Shun,
The Modern Lovers,
The Gladiators,
Bronski Beat,
Archie Shepp,
The Skatalites,
Los Fastidios,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.