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 Congo and from Tehran.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Derrick May to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Magazine,
Nils Olav,
Metal Thangz,
Todd Rundgren,
Nick Fraelich,
Peter and Kerry,
Ronan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Tim Buckley,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
B.T. Express,
The Velvet Underground,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soft Machine,
Country Teasers,
Franke,
Jeff Mills,
Pet Shop Boys,
Japan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Josef K,
Mandrill,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pylon,
the Germs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Grey Daturas,
Brothers Johnson,
F. McDonald,
Erasure,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Seeds,
Reuben Wilson,
Slick Rick,
Arthur Verocai,
Mission of Burma,
Lyres,
Babytalk,
The Monochrome Set,
Alice Coltrane,
Bootsy Collins,
Shoche,
Blancmange,
Circle Jerks,
Gang Green,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gang Gang Dance,
Thee Headcoats,
Aswad,
Sound Behaviour,
Scan 7,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rhythm & Sound,
Kayak,
Lalann,
Swell Maps,
Michelle Simonal,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.