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 East Timor and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Alarm Clocks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Davy DMX,
The Angels of Light,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Henry Cow,
Soft Machine,
John Lydon,
Scott Walker,
Pussy Galore,
Frankie Knuckles,
Simply Red,
Bill Near,
Chris Corsano,
Michelle Simonal,
Ultimate Spinach,
Spoonie Gee,
E-Dancer,
Thee Headcoats,
Arcadia,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bill Wells,
Toni Rubio,
The Count Five,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bauhaus,
Leonard Cohen,
The Trojans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Quantec,
Dorothy Ashby,
Country Teasers,
Joensuu 1685,
Hoover,
Procol Harum,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Al Stewart,
Television,
Godley & Creme,
The Busters,
These Immortal Souls,
Qualms,
Vainqueur,
The Buckinghams,
Jesper Dahlback,
Cymande,
Dead Boys,
the Swans,
Mission of Burma,
Adolescents,
Kurtis Blow,
Radiopuhelimet,
Cluster,
Peter and Kerry,
Brand Nubian,
Duran Duran,
Bobby Womack,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.