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 Dominican Republic and from Edmonton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Underground Resistance to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 ABBA. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Niagra,
Pantytec,
Marcia Griffiths,
cv313,
Public Enemy,
The Doors,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Juan Atkins,
Cecil Taylor,
Patti Smith,
Peter and Kerry,
Lungfish,
Tubeway Army,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Faraquet,
Alton Ellis,
Magazine,
Slick Rick,
Youth Brigade,
Bronski Beat,
Leonard Cohen,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Frankie Knuckles,
Cheater Slicks,
The Red Krayola,
Camouflage,
One Last Wish,
Bill Near,
June Days,
Qualms,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ultra Naté,
Gerry Rafferty,
Metal Thangz,
Surgeon,
The Tremeloes,
48th St. Collective,
Gil Scott Heron,
Danielle Patucci,
Gang of Four,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pharoah Sanders,
Crispian St. Peters,
Japan,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Barry Ungar,
Fat Boys,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Morten Harket,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Theoretical Girls,
Marine Girls,
Minnie Riperton,
Kerri Chandler,
Suburban Knight,
The New Christs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marvin Gaye,
Blossom Toes,
Jeff Mills,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.