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 Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Tears for Fears 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 Dave Gahan. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sly & The Family Stone 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marine Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Lyres,
Sex Pistols,
Outsiders,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
B.T. Express,
Supertramp,
The Raincoats,
Scratch Acid,
Warsaw,
Nico,
Black Sheep,
The Golliwogs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Bar-Kays,
These Immortal Souls,
Bob Dylan,
The Sonics,
Marc Almond,
The Neon Judgement,
Robert Wyatt,
Deepchord,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Traffic Nightmare,
AZ,
T.S.O.L.,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Nick Fraelich,
Frankie Knuckles,
Smog,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mad Mike,
the Association,
Bronski Beat,
Harmonia,
Oblivians,
Connie Case,
Animal Collective,
Fatback Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Liliput,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rakim,
Idris Muhammad,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rufus Thomas,
Sarah Menescal,
The J.B.'s,
Roy Ayers,
The Associates,
ABBA,
Pagans,
Gang Green,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Half Japanese,
The Leaves,
Todd Terry,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.