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 Belize and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz 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?
ABC,
Minor Threat,
Connie Case,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Vladislav Delay,
the Bar-Kays,
Guru Guru,
Al Stewart,
John Cale,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rotary Connection,
Aural Exciters,
Depeche Mode,
Colin Newman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Infiniti,
Eve St. Jones,
Pharoah Sanders,
Boogie Down Productions,
Crime,
The Golliwogs,
Ohio Players,
The Busters,
The Fortunes,
Harry Pussy,
The Victims,
The Flesh Eaters,
David McCallum,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nirvana,
Simply Red,
Prince Buster,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
D'Angelo,
The United States of America,
Radiohead,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ornette Coleman,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Smiths,
These Immortal Souls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tom Boy,
Youth Brigade,
Panda Bear,
Jeff Lynne,
Visage,
Idris Muhammad,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Cecil Taylor,
The Moody Blues,
Blossom Toes,
Ponytail,
Faust,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Angry Samoans,
Pagans,
Dorothy Ashby,
Barbara Tucker,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.