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 Hungary and from Toronto.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the punk 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sight & Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Theoretical Girls,
DJ Style,
Depeche Mode,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gabor Szabo,
Crime,
T. Rex,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Smog,
Faraquet,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sex Pistols,
Flash Fearless,
Scion,
Fear,
Carl Craig,
The Neon Judgement,
Marc Almond,
Spoonie Gee,
Rosa Yemen,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The New Christs,
Loose Ends,
10cc,
The Residents,
David Axelrod,
The Black Dice,
Harpers Bizarre,
Skarface,
The Mighty Diamonds,
ABC,
Gang of Four,
La Düsseldorf,
Fatback Band,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Andrew Hill,
Brothers Johnson,
Letta Mbulu,
Judy Mowatt,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Slackers,
Sparks,
F. McDonald,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Stereo Dub,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Parry Music,
Tom Boy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sam Rivers,
Kaleidoscope,
Black Moon,
Soft Cell,
The Raincoats,
Pantaleimon,
David Bowie,
Rhythm & Sound,
Spandau Ballet,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.