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 Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 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 This Heat to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
the Bar-Kays,
The Blues Magoos,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deepchord,
Gong,
Theoretical Girls,
Shoche,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Donny Hathaway,
Avey Tare,
Main Source,
The Divine Comedy,
Bush Tetras,
The Saints,
EPMD,
Thee Headcoats,
Magazine,
Maleditus Sound,
Rod Modell,
The Modern Lovers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Average White Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
X-Ray Spex,
Oneida,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tim Buckley,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Kool Moe Dee,
La Düsseldorf,
Popol Vuh,
The Gories,
Skarface,
Moby Grape,
Eve St. Jones,
Echospace,
the Soft Cell,
Josef K,
Khruangbin,
Thompson Twins,
John Coltrane,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pole,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Quadrant,
The Fire Engines,
Japan,
Fad Gadget,
Jandek,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Black Dice,
Leonard Cohen,
Joe Smooth,
Cybotron,
The Mummies,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Brothers Johnson,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.