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 South Sudan and from Manila.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Mandrill to the rock 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 The Litter. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
U.S. Maple,
The Blues Magoos,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brass Construction,
Hasil Adkins,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Count Five,
Das Ding,
Robert Hood,
Jacques Brel,
Bluetip,
Matthew Bourne,
Nas,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pussy Galore,
Steve Hackett,
Can,
The Skatalites,
Gong,
The Techniques,
The Real Kids,
Smog,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bill Wells,
Gang Green,
MDC,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Barclay James Harvest,
Essential Logic,
Goldenarms,
Marc Almond,
Ponytail,
Public Enemy,
OOIOO,
The Remains,
Archie Shepp,
Erasure,
Dark Day,
Tomorrow,
Franke,
Judy Mowatt,
Roger Hodgson,
The Index,
DNA,
Stereo Dub,
Dorothy Ashby,
Max Romeo,
Kevin Saunderson,
The New Christs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rites of Spring,
Thompson Twins,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Leaves,
Schoolly D,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Juan Atkins,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Gladiators,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.