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 Palau and from Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 B.T. Express to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Jawbox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quantec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 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 Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
X-Ray Spex,
Piero Umiliani,
Technova,
the Slits,
Ten City,
The Saints,
Scan 7,
EPMD,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Shoche,
Andrew Hill,
The Busters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lucky Dragons,
Camouflage,
Robert Wyatt,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Searchers,
The Blues Magoos,
Alton Ellis,
Todd Rundgren,
Dennis Brown,
Mad Mike,
John Coltrane,
The United States of America,
Joyce Sims,
Man Eating Sloth,
JFA,
Wasted Youth,
The Barracudas,
The Buckinghams,
Guru Guru,
Eric B and Rakim,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Magma,
Alison Limerick,
Matthew Bourne,
Wire,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bad Manners,
Skaos,
Lungfish,
The Stooges,
Oneida,
AZ,
Kerri Chandler,
Archie Shepp,
Wings,
Moebius,
Pere Ubu,
Altered Images,
Icehouse,
Black Sheep,
the Soft Cell,
the Bar-Kays,
Half Japanese,
Motorama,
Bootsy Collins,
Sandy B,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.