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 New Zealand and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lille.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pop Group to the disco 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Graham Central Station,
Ponytail,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Martian,
Iggy Pop,
Neu!,
Talk Talk,
Donald Byrd,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marshall Jefferson,
Boz Scaggs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Jacob Miller,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joe Smooth,
Fela Kuti,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Arcadia,
Simply Red,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Knickerbockers,
Sun City Girls,
The Residents,
The Real Kids,
Nas,
Joyce Sims,
Gichy Dan,
CMW,
The Fall,
Dave Gahan,
Arthur Verocai,
Cameo,
Ronnie Foster,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ohio Players,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Anthony Braxton,
the Association,
Theoretical Girls,
The Fuzztones,
Mars,
Brick,
Arab on Radar,
L. Decosne,
Y Pants,
Tommy Roe,
Rosa Yemen,
The Moody Blues,
Eric B and Rakim,
Suicide,
Nirvana,
Marcia Griffiths,
Quantec,
Colin Newman,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tres Demented,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.