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 Gambia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the electroclash 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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Mills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Joe Finger,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Grey Daturas,
Visage,
Tommy Roe,
Traffic Nightmare,
Heaven 17,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Junior Murvin,
Big Daddy Kane,
Tropical Tobacco,
Echospace,
The Offenders,
Deakin,
Marmalade,
Shuggie Otis,
The Cure,
Lyres,
Sun City Girls,
Radio Birdman,
The Dirtbombs,
Tres Demented,
Roxy Music,
Gang Green,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Aswad,
Drive Like Jehu,
Carl Craig,
The Cowsills,
Public Enemy,
U.S. Maple,
Eddi Front,
kango's stein massive,
Mad Mike,
Thompson Twins,
AZ,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Monks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Fugs,
The Gories,
the Germs,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Patti Smith,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ronan,
Byron Stingily,
The Electric Prunes,
Essential Logic,
Sixth Finger,
Albert Ayler,
Chrome,
Half Japanese,
Crooked Eye,
B.T. Express,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.