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 Mexico and from Toronto.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 Bluetip to the jazz 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 JFA. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Victims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Jesper Dahlback,
Dorothy Ashby,
Isaac Hayes,
Fluxion,
The Saints,
Bronski Beat,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Searchers,
The Standells,
The Gories,
Lou Christie,
Franke,
Bill Wells,
New York Dolls,
Nik Kershaw,
Joey Negro,
Bill Near,
Jacob Miller,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mission of Burma,
Excepter,
Terry Callier,
MC5,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
La Düsseldorf,
Faust,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pole,
Subhumans,
Barry Ungar,
Traffic Nightmare,
Matthew Bourne,
a-ha,
Funky Four + One,
Crooked Eye,
New Age Steppers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Names,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Youth Brigade,
The Sound,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Cowsills,
Danielle Patucci,
Slave,
Ten City,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dennis Brown,
Tubeway Army,
Fear,
China Crisis,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pulsallama,
Bob Dylan,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Pretty Things,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Harry Pussy,
48th St. Collective,
Gichy Dan,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.