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 Czech Republic and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Grass Roots to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks 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?
Charles Mingus,
Junior Murvin,
John Cale,
Harmonia,
Black Flag,
David Bowie,
Mandrill,
Whodini,
Warsaw,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bobby Byrd,
The Gap Band,
Rosa Yemen,
Fela Kuti,
Motorama,
The Moleskins,
Little Man,
Duran Duran,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Au Pairs,
Deadbeat,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Talk Talk,
Grey Daturas,
Henry Cow,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tubeway Army,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Toasters,
Anakelly,
The Sonics,
Fluxion,
The Gun Club,
The Red Krayola,
Radio Birdman,
The Move,
Khruangbin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Scientists,
Mark Hollis,
The Cure,
Guru Guru,
The Vogues,
Swell Maps,
Nas,
Arthur Verocai,
Rod Modell,
DJ Sneak,
Donald Byrd,
Thompson Twins,
UT,
Throbbing Gristle,
Moss Icon,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tim Buckley,
June Days,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lungfish,
Slave,
Scan 7,
Dual Sessions,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.