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 Israel and from Paris.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 guitar 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 Crooked Eye to the jazz 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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Raincoats,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Trojans,
Mo-Dettes,
These Immortal Souls,
Andrew Hill,
The Residents,
Thee Headcoats,
the Swans,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Goldenarms,
The Moleskins,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Golliwogs,
Cluster,
Ultravox,
Deakin,
Eve St. Jones,
Steve Hackett,
The Star Department,
Panda Bear,
Bush Tetras,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Technova,
Scion,
A Certain Ratio,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bang On A Can,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roxy Music,
Barbara Tucker,
The Five Americans,
Fugazi,
Susan Cadogan,
Siglo XX,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brick,
the Soft Cell,
Ludus,
The Count Five,
The Techniques,
Sun City Girls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Index,
Boz Scaggs,
Davy DMX,
Bobby Byrd,
Hashim,
The Monochrome Set,
Rotary Connection,
Faraquet,
Alphaville,
Jeff Mills,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dorothy Ashby,
Maleditus Sound,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Stereo Dub,
Yazoo,
The Blackbyrds,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.