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 Austria and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the grime 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Audionom tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pylon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Eurythmics,
Television,
Zero Boys,
Jawbox,
Kas Product,
Althea and Donna,
Intrusion,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Five Americans,
Judy Mowatt,
The Knickerbockers,
Slave,
Blake Baxter,
Hot Snakes,
The Smiths,
Theoretical Girls,
Bizarre Inc.,
James White and The Blacks,
Deadbeat,
T. Rex,
DJ Sneak,
Soul II Soul,
Los Fastidios,
Amazonics,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Cowsills,
The Pop Group,
Procol Harum,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Robert Wyatt,
Pierre Henry,
Sugar Minott,
The Names,
Dennis Brown,
X-Ray Spex,
Terry Callier,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pole,
T.S.O.L.,
The Neon Judgement,
Babytalk,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Schoolly D,
The Monochrome Set,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Roxette,
Organ,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bad Manners,
The Saints,
the Swans,
Alphaville,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Faust,
Eve St. Jones,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.