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 Bahrain and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sixth Finger to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Glenn Branca,
Nirvana,
Robert Görl,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gil Scott Heron,
Chris Corsano,
The Neon Judgement,
The Index,
Davy DMX,
Mark Hollis,
Lee Hazlewood,
Procol Harum,
Scientists,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Vainqueur,
Howard Jones,
Alice Coltrane,
Erasure,
Electric Prunes,
The Offenders,
Kerri Chandler,
Fear,
Joe Finger,
The Wake,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mad Mike,
Nick Fraelich,
Fela Kuti,
Peter & Gordon,
Symarip,
Deakin,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mission of Burma,
Wolf Eyes,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Bananas,
David Bowie,
Derrick Morgan,
John Lydon,
Fatback Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Smoke,
The Shadows of Knight,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Divine Comedy,
David Axelrod,
Jandek,
The Human League,
The Associates,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Y Pants,
Bad Manners,
Harmonia,
Pierre Henry,
Whodini,
Index,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.