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 Somalia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Monks to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Essential Logic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Tom Boy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Siglo XX,
Cheater Slicks,
Wasted Youth,
Section 25,
Skriet,
Heaven 17,
Amon Düül II,
Camouflage,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lalo Schifrin,
Scientists,
Aural Exciters,
Bill Near,
Glenn Branca,
Icehouse,
H. Thieme,
Half Japanese,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Janne Schatter,
Jerry's Kids,
Dual Sessions,
The Sonics,
Das Ding,
Connie Case,
Zero Boys,
Yellowson,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Radiohead,
Mr. Review,
U.S. Maple,
The Electric Prunes,
Kayak,
Tres Demented,
Khruangbin,
Delon & Dalcan,
The New Christs,
Minny Pops,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Slave,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Second Layer,
The Knickerbockers,
Absolute Body Control,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Dirtbombs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Outsiders,
Ronan,
Rosa Yemen,
Chris Corsano,
The Pop Group,
Banda Bassotti,
Joe Smooth,
Black Bananas,
Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani.
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.