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 Costa Rica and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Fatback Band to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Amazonics,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ultimate Spinach,
Public Enemy,
Barry Ungar,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
H. Thieme,
Angry Samoans,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Dead C,
Hot Snakes,
Chris & Cosey,
Gang of Four,
Barbara Tucker,
Tommy Roe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sarah Menescal,
Organ,
Marvin Gaye,
Reagan Youth,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fad Gadget,
Blancmange,
Goldenarms,
Crash Course in Science,
Dead Boys,
Robert Wyatt,
Boz Scaggs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Panda Bear,
Howard Jones,
Easy Going,
Wasted Youth,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Piero Umiliani,
The Durutti Column,
Sällskapet,
X-101,
Darondo,
Archie Shepp,
Soul II Soul,
New Order,
Tom Boy,
Steve Hackett,
Black Moon,
June of 44,
Morten Harket,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
ABBA,
Scientists,
Bad Manners,
Underground Resistance,
In Retrospect,
The Sonics,
The Knickerbockers,
Stetsasonic,
Q and Not U,
Bang On A Can,
The Detroit Cobras,
10cc,
Scan 7,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.