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 Laos and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Pere Ubu to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Rod Modell,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gil Scott Heron,
Smog,
David Axelrod,
F. McDonald,
Matthew Halsall,
The Young Rascals,
Severed Heads,
The Detroit Cobras,
Inner City,
Eli Mardock,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sarah Menescal,
Tommy Roe,
Bill Near,
The Moleskins,
Harry Pussy,
Electric Prunes,
The Fuzztones,
Althea and Donna,
John Coltrane,
The Smoke,
Lungfish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Model 500,
Oneida,
The Names,
Khruangbin,
Mark Hollis,
Duran Duran,
Mr. Review,
Jeff Lynne,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mary Jane Girls,
Black Pus,
Talk Talk,
Jacques Brel,
the Swans,
cv313,
Barry Ungar,
ABBA,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Todd Terry,
La Düsseldorf,
Tears for Fears,
Swans,
Motorama,
Wasted Youth,
Y Pants,
The Litter,
Brass Construction,
Sister Nancy,
Gong,
the Bar-Kays,
Scientists,
Popol Vuh,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Brick,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.