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 Armenia and from New York.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Woodstock.
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 mellotron 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Fluxion. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sunsets and Hearts,
Index,
Sex Pistols,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Smiths,
Mars,
L. Decosne,
48th St. Collective,
Barry Ungar,
The Offenders,
Negative Approach,
Masters at Work,
Scratch Acid,
AZ,
The Standells,
UT,
R.M.O.,
Massinfluence,
Vladislav Delay,
Boredoms,
The Seeds,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jeff Mills,
Anakelly,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Electric Prunes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Max Romeo,
Bootsy Collins,
June of 44,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Mandrill,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eurythmics,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pussy Galore,
Severed Heads,
The American Breed,
Rotary Connection,
Pere Ubu,
The Black Dice,
Lungfish,
Fatback Band,
Icehouse,
Duran Duran,
Tomorrow,
Throbbing Gristle,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Arab on Radar,
Technova,
Royal Trux,
the Germs,
The Raincoats,
Bad Manners,
Crispy Ambulance,
Suicide,
Kurtis Blow,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.