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 Korea South and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Tomorrow to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Joy Division,
UT,
48th St. Collective,
Neil Young,
Minnie Riperton,
Peter and Kerry,
ABBA,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Cure,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Graham Central Station,
The Remains,
Aloha Tigers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tubeway Army,
The Victims,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lakeside,
Soft Cell,
The Vogues,
Youth Brigade,
Don Cherry,
Yaz,
Ossler,
T.S.O.L.,
Supertramp,
Soulsonic Force,
Toni Rubio,
Sun Ra,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Five Americans,
The Stooges,
The Electric Prunes,
The Seeds,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Doobie Brothers,
a-ha,
Black Pus,
Mad Mike,
Tears for Fears,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mars,
Underground Resistance,
Roxy Music,
Buzzcocks,
10cc,
Au Pairs,
The Happenings,
Unrelated Segments,
Radio Birdman,
Dead Boys,
Q65,
The Music Machine,
Barbara Tucker,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Absolute Body Control,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Mojo Men,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.