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 Papua New Guinea and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 DNA to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gichy Dan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Patti Smith,
B.T. Express,
Brothers Johnson,
Lou Christie,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Nick Fraelich,
Whodini,
a-ha,
Piero Umiliani,
The Kinks,
Avey Tare,
Cheater Slicks,
X-101,
KRS-One,
Kurtis Blow,
Jacob Miller,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Matthew Halsall,
Anthony Braxton,
The Flesh Eaters,
New Order,
Ultimate Spinach,
Wire,
Public Image Ltd.,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Accadde A,
New Age Steppers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Drive Like Jehu,
Eurythmics,
The Fugs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
X-Ray Spex,
Trumans Water,
T. Rex,
The Zeros,
Bobby Sherman,
Eddi Front,
Kevin Saunderson,
Reuben Wilson,
Pierre Henry,
Wally Richardson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Fania All-Stars,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The American Breed,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Monolake,
Joensuu 1685,
New York Dolls,
Stiv Bators,
Crooked Eye,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Stooges,
Jeff Mills,
Jacques Brel,
Brick,
Royal Trux,
Johnny Clarke,
The Divine Comedy,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.