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 Nigeria and from Spokane.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Barclay James Harvest to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
Young Marble Giants,
X-Ray Spex,
Fatback Band,
Aswad,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fat Boys,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Goldenarms,
Clear Light,
Cluster,
Aloha Tigers,
Bluetip,
Pulsallama,
David Bowie,
Soul II Soul,
Brothers Johnson,
Nico,
X-101,
Camouflage,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kerri Chandler,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bronski Beat,
Jacques Brel,
World's Most,
Albert Ayler,
Nick Fraelich,
Niagra,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Mummies,
The Pop Group,
Average White Band,
The Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
Patti Smith,
Deakin,
John Holt,
Subhumans,
Eric Dolphy,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tears for Fears,
The Dirtbombs,
Nik Kershaw,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sun City Girls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Rites of Spring,
Amazonics,
Peter & Gordon,
Mr. Review,
Pere Ubu,
Hot Snakes,
Pantaleimon,
Arab on Radar,
Con Funk Shun,
Danielle Patucci,
The Index,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.