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 France and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 organ 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lebanon Hanover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
The American Breed,
The Skatalites,
The Victims,
The Pretty Things,
Suburban Knight,
Smog,
Prince Buster,
Joe Finger,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Martian,
Kevin Saunderson,
Terrestrial Tones,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Absolute Body Control,
Alphaville,
Eve St. Jones,
Magazine,
Japan,
Lalo Schifrin,
Harmonia,
Peter & Gordon,
Althea and Donna,
Inner City,
Marmalade,
Jesper Dahlback,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Depeche Mode,
Wally Richardson,
Iggy Pop,
Organ,
Gong,
Ultra Naté,
Index,
The United States of America,
Tommy Roe,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Young Rascals,
Alice Coltrane,
Albert Ayler,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Minnie Riperton,
Circle Jerks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bang On A Can,
Cecil Taylor,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Flag,
Oneida,
Wire,
Stiv Bators,
Pharoah Sanders,
Liliput,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Black Moon,
CMW,
The Black Dice,
The Techniques,
The Pop Group,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.