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 Kazakhstan and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Oneida to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every EPMD record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
Smog,
Harry Pussy,
Susan Cadogan,
Jeff Lynne,
Fad Gadget,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
AZ,
Idris Muhammad,
EPMD,
Skriet,
Josef K,
the Normal,
The Fuzztones,
Ituana,
The Cure,
Black Sheep,
The Fall,
Boz Scaggs,
The Kinks,
Todd Terry,
Tres Demented,
Laurel Aitken,
Ronan,
Camouflage,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Barracudas,
Bauhaus,
Buzzcocks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Yazoo,
Rosa Yemen,
Bobby Womack,
The Dead C,
The Stooges,
Interpol,
Jerry's Kids,
Toni Rubio,
Gabor Szabo,
Cluster,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Fortunes,
Dawn Penn,
Ronnie Foster,
Anakelly,
cv313,
The Music Machine,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Buckinghams,
Eurythmics,
Moss Icon,
Angry Samoans,
Ultravox,
The Martian,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Yaz,
Derrick May,
Barrington Levy,
Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra.
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.