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 Finland and from Woodstock.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the rock 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 Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Tim Buckley,
Gregory Isaacs,
Henry Cow,
Minny Pops,
Flipper,
Piero Umiliani,
The Move,
Nico,
Newcleus,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Busters,
The Selecter,
K-Klass,
James White and The Blacks,
Anakelly,
Patti Smith,
Yaz,
Quantec,
Fluxion,
Stockholm Monsters,
Subhumans,
The Cure,
Tom Boy,
Agitation Free,
Donald Byrd,
Sparks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Television,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
David McCallum,
Qualms,
Warsaw,
Chrome,
Jeff Lynne,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Index,
The Blues Magoos,
Hoover,
The Litter,
Bobby Sherman,
Fad Gadget,
Hot Snakes,
U.S. Maple,
Das Ding,
X-101,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Derrick May,
Quadrant,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pole,
The Moleskins,
The Names,
Symarip,
the Human League,
Amon Düül II,
Tommy Roe,
The American Breed,
Joyce Sims,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.