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 Ghana and from London.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Malaria! to the crunk 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Scion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
The Seeds,
The Count Five,
the Association,
David Bowie,
Grandmaster Flash,
UT,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Motions,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Alphaville,
Excepter,
Marmalade,
The Last Poets,
Quantec,
The Moleskins,
Ken Boothe,
Curtis Mayfield,
10cc,
Blossom Toes,
Silicon Teens,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bobby Byrd,
The Raincoats,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Real Kids,
Black Bananas,
The Monks,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Max Romeo,
Pantaleimon,
Pole,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Echospace,
Mandrill,
The Wake,
Skriet,
Bill Wells,
Tears for Fears,
The Busters,
Ponytail,
X-101,
Juan Atkins,
Marshall Jefferson,
Mr. Review,
Dawn Penn,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Angry Samoans,
MDC,
The Associates,
OOIOO,
Magma,
Flipper,
Camouflage,
Alice Coltrane,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Joe Finger,
Barrington Levy,
The United States of America,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Divine Comedy,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.