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 Kiribati and from Bologna.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ultimate Spinach to the crunk 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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Qualms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
The Sound,
Idris Muhammad,
Index,
Black Sheep,
Archie Shepp,
Tubeway Army,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Drexciya,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Fuzztones,
Lalann,
Joe Smooth,
Grey Daturas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Swell Maps,
Harpers Bizarre,
Neil Young,
Sun City Girls,
Outsiders,
Los Fastidios,
Ohio Players,
Scion,
Tres Demented,
8 Eyed Spy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Boz Scaggs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Motorama,
Boredoms,
Ten City,
John Foxx,
Clear Light,
Spandau Ballet,
The Kinks,
Sexual Harrassment,
F. McDonald,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Make Up,
Second Layer,
AZ,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
John Holt,
Jeff Mills,
Fad Gadget,
Das Ding,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Flesh Eaters,
Average White Band,
CMW,
Oblivians,
Grandmaster Flash,
Simply Red,
Eddi Front,
Buzzcocks,
The Star Department,
X-Ray Spex,
Letta Mbulu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.