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 Lebanon and from Lyon.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Thee Headcoats to the grunge 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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Little Man,
Matthew Bourne,
Swans,
Josef K,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Foxx,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Last Poets,
KRS-One,
Sarah Menescal,
Ultra Naté,
Lungfish,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Crispian St. Peters,
Can,
Thee Headcoats,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Joe Smooth,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Fire Engines,
Blossom Toes,
Von Mondo,
The Cure,
Black Flag,
Marvin Gaye,
Yazoo,
Robert Hood,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kas Product,
The Cowsills,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sight & Sound,
Alice Coltrane,
H. Thieme,
Public Enemy,
Section 25,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pole,
Frankie Knuckles,
Cameo,
Donald Byrd,
Mars,
FM Einheit,
Cymande,
Maleditus Sound,
Brand Nubian,
the Soft Cell,
Ronan,
The Count Five,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Monks,
Masters at Work,
Mary Jane Girls,
Henry Cow,
LL Cool J,
Steve Hackett,
Quadrant,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.