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 Norway and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Scrapy to the crunk 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 Unwound. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Slackers,
Mo-Dettes,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Inner City,
Nirvana,
Piero Umiliani,
The Sisters of Mercy,
John Holt,
Jeru the Damaja,
Arthur Verocai,
Radio Birdman,
DJ Style,
Absolute Body Control,
OOIOO,
Zapp,
Lungfish,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eli Mardock,
Lucky Dragons,
Rosa Yemen,
Cymande,
Slave,
Nico,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Main Source,
Icehouse,
Mark Hollis,
MDC,
Little Man,
Soft Cell,
The Remains,
Arcadia,
The Mojo Men,
The Move,
Rakim,
Massinfluence,
Tim Buckley,
Stereo Dub,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sarah Menescal,
David Bowie,
Mr. Review,
Yazoo,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Swans,
John Foxx,
The Barracudas,
The Electric Prunes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Parry Music,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marmalade,
The Gladiators,
Subhumans,
Amon Düül II,
Half Japanese,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Outsiders,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.