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 Samoa and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lyon.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Gang Starr,
June of 44,
Jandek,
Ultimate Spinach,
Albert Ayler,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kayak,
E-Dancer,
The Walker Brothers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Marvin Gaye,
Niagra,
Deadbeat,
Carl Craig,
Lungfish,
David Axelrod,
Half Japanese,
Mars,
Goldenarms,
Stetsasonic,
Ronan,
Morten Harket,
Kurtis Blow,
Unrelated Segments,
New Order,
Kerrie Biddell,
Isaac Hayes,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
These Immortal Souls,
Thompson Twins,
Quando Quango,
Das Ding,
The Misunderstood,
James White and The Blacks,
Interpol,
Gang of Four,
The Fugs,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Brand Nubian,
Bush Tetras,
the Human League,
Janne Schatter,
Black Sheep,
Eric Copeland,
Sun Ra,
Anthony Braxton,
Q and Not U,
The Golliwogs,
The J.B.'s,
Grauzone,
The Mummies,
Glambeats Corp.,
Soulsonic Force,
The Blues Magoos,
Flipper,
Brothers Johnson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dawn Penn,
Roger Hodgson,
New Age Steppers,
Los Fastidios,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.