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 Kuwait and from Beijing.
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 Sao Paulo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Von Mondo to the grunge 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 Germs. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
the Association,
Ultravox,
Franke,
Erasure,
Talk Talk,
Terry Callier,
Radiohead,
Gichy Dan,
The Techniques,
Rotary Connection,
The Monks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Clear Light,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hot Snakes,
Lakeside,
Barbara Tucker,
Man Eating Sloth,
U.S. Maple,
Country Teasers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Goldenarms,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Au Pairs,
R.M.O.,
The Toasters,
Fear,
L. Decosne,
The Five Americans,
Metal Thangz,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Magazine,
Adolescents,
Todd Rundgren,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Deepchord,
John Coltrane,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Fall,
Bang On A Can,
Stereo Dub,
Royal Trux,
H. Thieme,
Glenn Branca,
Barclay James Harvest,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Seeds,
Delon & Dalcan,
Black Bananas,
Max Romeo,
Flash Fearless,
Nik Kershaw,
Dead Boys,
Infiniti,
Rod Modell,
Spandau Ballet,
Pylon,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scratch Acid,
Roger Hodgson,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.