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 Pakistan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 linndrum 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 Loose Ends to the punk 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes 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 Motions,
Brothers Johnson,
The Searchers,
The Index,
New York Dolls,
Barry Ungar,
The Vogues,
The Mojo Men,
Fluxion,
MDC,
Deepchord,
Scrapy,
Henry Cow,
Das Ding,
Arab on Radar,
Siglo XX,
Smog,
Saccharine Trust,
Ornette Coleman,
Tears for Fears,
Kayak,
B.T. Express,
Maleditus Sound,
H. Thieme,
a-ha,
Thee Headcoats,
Theoretical Girls,
Nick Fraelich,
Aswad,
Electric Prunes,
The Beau Brummels,
Lou Christie,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Icehouse,
Young Marble Giants,
The Slits,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tom Boy,
the Human League,
Pulsallama,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rakim,
The Fire Engines,
Monks,
D'Angelo,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
In Retrospect,
Little Man,
The Five Americans,
Mr. Review,
AZ,
The Gladiators,
Black Pus,
L. Decosne,
Section 25,
Urselle,
Echospace,
Althea and Donna,
Magazine,
Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence.
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.