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 Kazakhstan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Johannesburg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 güiro 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 Fifty Foot Hose 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Jandek,
Rites of Spring,
Arthur Verocai,
The Beau Brummels,
Glenn Branca,
Newcleus,
The Knickerbockers,
Minnie Riperton,
The United States of America,
Susan Cadogan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Doors,
Byron Stingily,
Roxette,
Gerry Rafferty,
CMW,
The Smiths,
Crooked Eye,
Cluster,
The Modern Lovers,
OOIOO,
the Normal,
Liliput,
The Dirtbombs,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Babytalk,
Swell Maps,
These Immortal Souls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lyres,
the Slits,
Hoover,
Soft Machine,
Popol Vuh,
Tim Buckley,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Brothers Johnson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Terrestrial Tones,
Donny Hathaway,
The Slackers,
In Retrospect,
Robert Görl,
The Associates,
Sixth Finger,
Kaleidoscope,
Heaven 17,
Fad Gadget,
John Coltrane,
Big Daddy Kane,
Public Image Ltd.,
Desert Stars,
Procol Harum,
U.S. Maple,
The Saints,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Cramps,
John Holt,
EPMD,
Fluxion,
The Fugs,
Jawbox,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.