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 Iraq and from Accra.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Steve Hackett to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Quando Quango,
The Cowsills,
The Walker Brothers,
Brand Nubian,
Excepter,
Crooked Eye,
Warsaw,
Rod Modell,
The Angels of Light,
Aloha Tigers,
The Birthday Party,
8 Eyed Spy,
Au Pairs,
Theoretical Girls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Radio Birdman,
The Selecter,
Joey Negro,
U.S. Maple,
Gang Starr,
Pantytec,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Tropical Tobacco,
Arab on Radar,
Hoover,
In Retrospect,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Black Dice,
L. Decosne,
Cymande,
The Martian,
Funkadelic,
Buzzcocks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Reagan Youth,
Y Pants,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Soft Cell,
Section 25,
The Monks,
Letta Mbulu,
T. Rex,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Liliput,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Vogues,
Livin' Joy,
Matthew Halsall,
Wally Richardson,
Connie Case,
The Busters,
Cal Tjader,
Funky Four + One,
Icehouse,
Suicide,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pierre Henry,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.