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 Bangladesh and from Spokane.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bobby Sherman to the grime 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 Sound Behaviour. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Faust,
These Immortal Souls,
Dark Day,
The Dirtbombs,
Maurizio,
The Barracudas,
Lee Hazlewood,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Morten Harket,
Godley & Creme,
Harmonia,
Mad Mike,
Black Sheep,
Minny Pops,
the Association,
Tomorrow,
X-Ray Spex,
Michelle Simonal,
The Fugs,
The Grass Roots,
X-101,
Danielle Patucci,
Bronski Beat,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Alphaville,
Mr. Review,
The Doors,
Thompson Twins,
Funkadelic,
Magma,
Alice Coltrane,
Sound Behaviour,
Donny Hathaway,
the Slits,
the Human League,
Barbara Tucker,
the Germs,
Rotary Connection,
48th St. Collective,
Man Parrish,
Skarface,
Mo-Dettes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Erykah Badu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Crooked Eye,
DJ Sneak,
Dead Boys,
Wolf Eyes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
China Crisis,
Johnny Clarke,
Eddi Front,
The Doobie Brothers,
Boredoms,
Traffic Nightmare,
Hot Snakes,
Swans,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.