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 Morocco and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Slits to the rock 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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
John Foxx,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Soulsonic Force,
Arab on Radar,
Tres Demented,
Essential Logic,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Star Department,
Vainqueur,
Scrapy,
10cc,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dave Gahan,
Saccharine Trust,
Kerri Chandler,
Von Mondo,
The Names,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Anthony Braxton,
Gichy Dan,
Minutemen,
The Searchers,
Niagra,
Curtis Mayfield,
Nils Olav,
Bobby Womack,
Amazonics,
Dual Sessions,
Pantaleimon,
Heaven 17,
Carl Craig,
Darondo,
The Mummies,
Graham Central Station,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Amon Düül II,
Lower 48,
Sister Nancy,
Glenn Branca,
Outsiders,
Fela Kuti,
Jawbox,
Deakin,
Charles Mingus,
Marcia Griffiths,
Andrew Hill,
Oneida,
Ultimate Spinach,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ponytail,
The Alarm Clocks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lucky Dragons,
Eddi Front,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.