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 Denmark and from Jakarta.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the theremin 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 T.S.O.L. to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Skatalites 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Barbara Tucker,
Dorothy Ashby,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Hashim,
Bad Manners,
Marvin Gaye,
Gichy Dan,
LL Cool J,
Cybotron,
Robert Hood,
The Durutti Column,
The Five Americans,
Lebanon Hanover,
Peter & Gordon,
Eli Mardock,
Monolake,
Soft Machine,
Monks,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Buckinghams,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
X-102,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bush Tetras,
Marmalade,
Porter Ricks,
These Immortal Souls,
Arab on Radar,
Kerri Chandler,
Jacques Brel,
Sun City Girls,
Joyce Sims,
The Skatalites,
CMW,
The Names,
Public Enemy,
The Dead C,
Bronski Beat,
Black Moon,
The Gun Club,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Big Daddy Kane,
Byron Stingily,
The Searchers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Supertramp,
Audionom,
Neil Young,
The Fortunes,
Absolute Body Control,
Unrelated Segments,
Bobby Byrd,
The Stooges,
Funkadelic,
Suicide,
Eric Copeland,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Monks,
Matthew Bourne,
Heaven 17,
Blossom Toes,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.