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 Czech Republic 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Magazine to the punk 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 Fugazi. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Funky Four + One,
the Swans,
In Retrospect,
The Dead C,
Magazine,
Lyres,
The Star Department,
Roxy Music,
Ituana,
T. Rex,
Crash Course in Science,
Ultra Naté,
Gong,
Rapeman,
Tomorrow,
Hoover,
Qualms,
Man Eating Sloth,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Urselle,
Absolute Body Control,
Monks,
Zapp,
Ohio Players,
Moss Icon,
Faust,
John Cale,
Robert Hood,
Adolescents,
Agitation Free,
The Selecter,
Iggy Pop,
Suburban Knight,
Y Pants,
Sun City Girls,
Desert Stars,
Nils Olav,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Cameo,
Liliput,
Electric Prunes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Wings,
David Bowie,
Bad Manners,
Ultimate Spinach,
Barry Ungar,
MC5,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Theoretical Girls,
John Coltrane,
Echospace,
Deakin,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Wally Richardson,
Godley & Creme,
Essential Logic,
Joensuu 1685,
Cal Tjader,
the Soft Cell,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.