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 Panama and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rod Modell to the jazz 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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move 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 theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Howard Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Sister Nancy,
H. Thieme,
Harry Pussy,
Lalo Schifrin,
Charles Mingus,
The Wake,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pere Ubu,
Morten Harket,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
John Foxx,
Ohio Players,
the Bar-Kays,
The Monochrome Set,
Y Pants,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Patti Smith,
Subhumans,
FM Einheit,
Nas,
Barry Ungar,
Connie Case,
Desert Stars,
Ultravox,
X-102,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Invisible,
Youth Brigade,
Dual Sessions,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rod Modell,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mars,
Bill Wells,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Hoover,
Sound Behaviour,
The Smoke,
The Music Machine,
Yazoo,
EPMD,
Pussy Galore,
Kerri Chandler,
Suicide,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Angry Samoans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Trumans Water,
Scott Walker,
Khruangbin,
Oneida,
Terry Callier,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Slits,
Moss Icon,
Procol Harum,
Buzzcocks,
Mr. Review,
T. Rex,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.