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 El Salvador and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Radio Birdman to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Can 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
T. Rex,
Arab on Radar,
The Gladiators,
New Age Steppers,
Althea and Donna,
Easy Going,
Fear,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lungfish,
Masters at Work,
Unrelated Segments,
Shoche,
Slick Rick,
Adolescents,
Peter & Gordon,
Skarface,
Swell Maps,
Sonny Sharrock,
Neu!,
The Blues Magoos,
U.S. Maple,
The Smoke,
Simply Red,
Fluxion,
Fela Kuti,
Drive Like Jehu,
James White and The Blacks,
The Music Machine,
Cheater Slicks,
Howard Jones,
Make Up,
Groovy Waters,
Ten City,
Subhumans,
Yaz,
Kevin Saunderson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Thee Headcoats,
Oblivians,
Jawbox,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Smiths,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Wire,
Archie Shepp,
Grauzone,
Y Pants,
Fugazi,
Arthur Verocai,
Magazine,
Mo-Dettes,
Joe Smooth,
Ultravox,
Soft Cell,
Scion,
This Heat,
T.S.O.L.,
Bobby Womack,
Intrusion,
Janne Schatter,
Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc..
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.