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 Portugal and from Philadelphia.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 organ 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 the Bar-Kays to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Arcadia,
Graham Central Station,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Absolute Body Control,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Todd Rundgren,
Y Pants,
Heaven 17,
La Düsseldorf,
The Moody Blues,
Ice-T,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Associates,
Pantaleimon,
Scrapy,
The Seeds,
Circle Jerks,
The Last Poets,
Inner City,
X-102,
Pagans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tropical Tobacco,
Desert Stars,
Moebius,
Aural Exciters,
Bobby Byrd,
Tubeway Army,
Mad Mike,
Fugazi,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Suburban Knight,
Ultimate Spinach,
Deepchord,
Can,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Joy Division,
the Swans,
Scratch Acid,
Amazonics,
Hardrive,
The Angels of Light,
Franke,
Scion,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nation of Ulysses,
Anthony Braxton,
Don Cherry,
Sam Rivers,
Piero Umiliani,
The Dead C,
Negative Approach,
Los Fastidios,
Fluxion,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Young Marble Giants,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.