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 China and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 EPMD to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Isaac Hayes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
The Flesh Eaters,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Terrestrial Tones,
Scott Walker,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pussy Galore,
a-ha,
The Moody Blues,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Hot Snakes,
Skarface,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ituana,
The Smoke,
Yellowson,
AZ,
Pierre Henry,
Arthur Verocai,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
JFA,
Crime,
Icehouse,
Mark Hollis,
Los Fastidios,
T.S.O.L.,
ABC,
The Remains,
X-Ray Spex,
Prince Buster,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Soul II Soul,
Mary Jane Girls,
Average White Band,
Rosa Yemen,
Barry Ungar,
Ultimate Spinach,
Y Pants,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tubeway Army,
Inner City,
Sun Ra,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Joe Finger,
The Move,
F. McDonald,
Iggy Pop,
Neu!,
Harry Pussy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lou Christie,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ornette Coleman,
Harmonia,
Swell Maps,
Skaos,
Unrelated Segments,
Massinfluence,
Tom Boy,
Brothers Johnson,
Anakelly,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Schoolly D,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.