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 Guatemala and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Trojans to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Remains. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
Sight & Sound,
Gastr Del Sol,
Faust,
Judy Mowatt,
the Sonics,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ponytail,
Kas Product,
Jacques Brel,
Radio Birdman,
Scratch Acid,
Ossler,
The Barracudas,
Cymande,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bush Tetras,
The Motions,
Alphaville,
Mad Mike,
Black Pus,
Barbara Tucker,
Popol Vuh,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Mary Jane Girls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
T.S.O.L.,
The Tremeloes,
The Fuzztones,
Malaria!,
Nik Kershaw,
Vladislav Delay,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scrapy,
Godley & Creme,
Freddie Wadling,
Public Enemy,
Todd Terry,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The United States of America,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Metal Thangz,
Radiohead,
LL Cool J,
Pussy Galore,
Minny Pops,
Monks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Bar-Kays,
Visage,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
A Certain Ratio,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Remains,
The Victims,
Man Eating Sloth,
Janne Schatter,
The Red Krayola,
Severed Heads,
Matthew Bourne,
Barry Ungar,
Prince Buster,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.