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 Argentina and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Blackbyrds to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sound Behaviour 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?
Jerry Gold Smith,
X-101,
Kaleidoscope,
The Modern Lovers,
F. McDonald,
Isaac Hayes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soul Sonic Force,
Severed Heads,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Mummies,
The Walker Brothers,
Skarface,
The Associates,
Reuben Wilson,
Ronan,
Duran Duran,
The Star Department,
Young Marble Giants,
Lucky Dragons,
The New Christs,
Tubeway Army,
Amazonics,
Agitation Free,
The Young Rascals,
Lyres,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
U.S. Maple,
June Days,
The J.B.'s,
Robert Görl,
Moby Grape,
Radio Birdman,
The Moleskins,
Sex Pistols,
The United States of America,
Brick,
Gichy Dan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kerri Chandler,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Angels of Light,
Joyce Sims,
Guru Guru,
Patti Smith,
Ultra Naté,
Pantaleimon,
Buzzcocks,
Matthew Bourne,
The Divine Comedy,
New York Dolls,
The Fire Engines,
Throbbing Gristle,
Silicon Teens,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Grauzone,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sun Ra,
Spandau Ballet,
One Last Wish,
Youth Brigade,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.