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 Guinea-Bissau and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 808 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 Colin Newman 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 KRS-One. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Blake Baxter,
Groovy Waters,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
E-Dancer,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pantytec,
The Invisible,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Wire,
The Black Dice,
Slave,
FM Einheit,
Severed Heads,
Country Teasers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Stockholm Monsters,
Colin Newman,
The Alarm Clocks,
Robert Wyatt,
The Modern Lovers,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Detroit Cobras,
Electric Prunes,
Magma,
Ponytail,
Skaos,
Arthur Verocai,
Junior Murvin,
The Monks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rites of Spring,
Fugazi,
Terrestrial Tones,
Chris Corsano,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Skarface,
Man Parrish,
The Skatalites,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Human League,
June Days,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Patti Smith,
Susan Cadogan,
Silicon Teens,
Matthew Bourne,
Surgeon,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Electric Prunes,
The Smoke,
Bob Dylan,
Angry Samoans,
Soul II Soul,
Shoche,
Pulsallama,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.