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 Equatorial Guinea and from Calgary.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 marimba 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 Scientists to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Seeds,
Stetsasonic,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pere Ubu,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bronski Beat,
Man Parrish,
H. Thieme,
Tears for Fears,
The Music Machine,
Malaria!,
Swans,
Mission of Burma,
Can,
The Slackers,
Monks,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Blues Magoos,
Suicide,
Simply Red,
Model 500,
The Wake,
Alice Coltrane,
Supertramp,
Groovy Waters,
Organ,
Marine Girls,
Soft Cell,
UT,
Spoonie Gee,
Severed Heads,
Mo-Dettes,
The Modern Lovers,
Roy Ayers,
Monolake,
Depeche Mode,
Ice-T,
Swell Maps,
Robert Wyatt,
Camberwell Now,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Godley & Creme,
Bootsy Collins,
Unwound,
Gong,
Tommy Roe,
Mark Hollis,
Junior Murvin,
Eric B and Rakim,
Moss Icon,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gang Starr,
E-Dancer,
Visage,
Livin' Joy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Fuzztones,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.