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 Swaziland 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 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 Pet Shop Boys to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lower 48,
The Beau Brummels,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ultimate Spinach,
Circle Jerks,
Cecil Taylor,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rhythm & Sound,
China Crisis,
New York Dolls,
Los Fastidios,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Interpol,
Banda Bassotti,
Boredoms,
Joe Smooth,
Mars,
Maleditus Sound,
Agitation Free,
The Techniques,
Minor Threat,
Don Cherry,
Von Mondo,
Guru Guru,
Albert Ayler,
Girls At Our Best!,
Mad Mike,
Howard Jones,
X-Ray Spex,
Bronski Beat,
Ken Boothe,
Joe Finger,
Brass Construction,
Funky Four + One,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rufus Thomas,
Henry Cow,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Laurel Aitken,
Deakin,
John Cale,
Aural Exciters,
Yellowson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Litter,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nick Fraelich,
ABC,
Moby Grape,
Stetsasonic,
Angry Samoans,
Mark Hollis,
Avey Tare,
Blossom Toes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Television Personalities,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
James White and The Blacks,
Eli Mardock,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.