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 Yemen 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 World's Most to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
The Red Krayola,
Traffic Nightmare,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Malaria!,
Goldenarms,
Country Teasers,
Rotary Connection,
Kevin Saunderson,
Boz Scaggs,
Bootsy Collins,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lower 48,
Groovy Waters,
The Index,
Nation of Ulysses,
Radiohead,
Eric Dolphy,
Junior Murvin,
Minny Pops,
Robert Wyatt,
Von Mondo,
Procol Harum,
Bob Dylan,
Judy Mowatt,
ABBA,
Neu!,
Agitation Free,
The Young Rascals,
Warren Ellis,
T.S.O.L.,
Au Pairs,
Pantaleimon,
Amon Düül,
The Golliwogs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Index,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
OOIOO,
Marc Almond,
Can,
Pierre Henry,
Flash Fearless,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Radio Birdman,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Spoonie Gee,
Fluxion,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Happenings,
Davy DMX,
Tears for Fears,
Sparks,
Tommy Roe,
Jacques Brel,
Erasure,
Pantytec,
Morten Harket,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan.
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.