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 Norway and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 spring reverb 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 Boz Scaggs to the crunk 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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
Cameo,
The Tremeloes,
Drexciya,
Barrington Levy,
Agent Orange,
The Offenders,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Babytalk,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Porter Ricks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Slits,
David Bowie,
Minor Threat,
Joe Finger,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lou Christie,
The Walker Brothers,
ABC,
Alphaville,
Gerry Rafferty,
In Retrospect,
The Pretty Things,
Donny Hathaway,
The Zeros,
Agitation Free,
The Selecter,
Bauhaus,
Tubeway Army,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Malaria!,
MC5,
The Martian,
Terry Callier,
The Raincoats,
Buzzcocks,
Khruangbin,
Black Sheep,
Crash Course in Science,
The Fire Engines,
Brand Nubian,
The Motions,
Darondo,
Von Mondo,
Q65,
Joensuu 1685,
DJ Style,
Cluster,
The Five Americans,
Interpol,
Joy Division,
a-ha,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Talk Talk,
The Smoke,
Public Image Ltd.,
Swell Maps,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Silicon Teens,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.