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 Venezuela and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin 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 Soul Sonic Force to the disco 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 The Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Gang of Four,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Red Krayola,
The Blackbyrds,
Dawn Penn,
Niagra,
Lebanon Hanover,
John Foxx,
The United States of America,
Mr. Review,
Public Enemy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pole,
The Move,
The Last Poets,
Moby Grape,
The Gories,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Thee Headcoats,
AZ,
Alice Coltrane,
Terrestrial Tones,
Brand Nubian,
Black Moon,
Kayak,
Ten City,
Metal Thangz,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Human League,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Crime,
Anthony Braxton,
Dual Sessions,
Rod Modell,
Yellowson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Black Dice,
Minnie Riperton,
Bobby Womack,
June of 44,
The Remains,
Deakin,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Black Bananas,
The Techniques,
U.S. Maple,
The Walker Brothers,
Altered Images,
Rapeman,
Joey Negro,
Alison Limerick,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Hasil Adkins,
Cal Tjader,
Pussy Galore,
The Misunderstood,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.