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 Tunisia and from Columbus.
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 Portland and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 oboe 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ohio Players. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Trumans Water,
Con Funk Shun,
New York Dolls,
The J.B.'s,
The Smiths,
Black Sheep,
Panda Bear,
UT,
Sam Rivers,
Toni Rubio,
AZ,
Sun City Girls,
Boz Scaggs,
The Gories,
The Neon Judgement,
Ultra Naté,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Scratch Acid,
The Walker Brothers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bob Dylan,
Camouflage,
Bobby Byrd,
Bill Near,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Big Daddy Kane,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Residents,
These Immortal Souls,
OOIOO,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ice-T,
Godley & Creme,
Cameo,
Index,
Delon & Dalcan,
Danielle Patucci,
Swans,
Ronnie Foster,
Dawn Penn,
The Monks,
Harmonia,
The New Christs,
Crash Course in Science,
The Evens,
Visage,
Traffic Nightmare,
Arcadia,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Victims,
Man Parrish,
Robert Görl,
the Bar-Kays,
Intrusion,
The Motions,
The Wake,
Wings,
Livin' Joy,
Liliput,
Agitation Free,
Roger Hodgson,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.