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 Austria and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 808 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the funk 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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Camouflage,
Erykah Badu,
MDC,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sex Pistols,
Scratch Acid,
Skaos,
Black Moon,
Skriet,
Intrusion,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Soul II Soul,
The Moleskins,
Neu!,
The Motions,
The Evens,
Pet Shop Boys,
Graham Central Station,
Newcleus,
The Slits,
Delta 5,
The United States of America,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Litter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Maleditus Sound,
Spoonie Gee,
Scion,
Bluetip,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Gun Club,
Underground Resistance,
Derrick Morgan,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
John Holt,
Reagan Youth,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Howard Jones,
Malaria!,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Sonics,
Silicon Teens,
48th St. Collective,
The Smoke,
Don Cherry,
Michelle Simonal,
The Slackers,
Pulsallama,
The Fugs,
Radio Birdman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Buzzcocks,
Byron Stingily,
Scan 7,
Eurythmics,
Avey Tare,
T.S.O.L.,
Basic Channel,
Khruangbin,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.