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 Hungary and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tokyo.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Desert Stars to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks 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?
Guru Guru,
The Cure,
Shuggie Otis,
Wings,
Masters at Work,
Lungfish,
Sparks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Red Krayola,
The Motions,
Ice-T,
Jeff Lynne,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Surgeon,
Monolake,
The Five Americans,
Delta 5,
The Last Poets,
Rufus Thomas,
L. Decosne,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sällskapet,
Tears for Fears,
Cecil Taylor,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Gories,
Flash Fearless,
The Blackbyrds,
Crooked Eye,
Pussy Galore,
Mo-Dettes,
The Vogues,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Brick,
Thee Headcoats,
Neil Young,
The Trojans,
Eurythmics,
The Cowsills,
Donny Hathaway,
Lindisfarne,
Glambeats Corp.,
Max Romeo,
Newcleus,
Sam Rivers,
Black Flag,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Essential Logic,
A Certain Ratio,
Danielle Patucci,
Accadde A,
Fela Kuti,
Isaac Hayes,
Joe Finger,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Swell Maps,
Wally Richardson,
The Happenings,
Minor Threat,
JFA,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.