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 Hong Kong.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Babytalk to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Ultramagnetic MC's tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy 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?
OOIOO,
Mantronix,
Boogie Down Productions,
James Chance & The Contortions,
DJ Style,
Spandau Ballet,
Hasil Adkins,
The Names,
Hoover,
Gerry Rafferty,
Piero Umiliani,
The Raincoats,
Nirvana,
Slave,
Scrapy,
The Cowsills,
The Blackbyrds,
Lou Christie,
Yellowson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Flash Fearless,
New Order,
H. Thieme,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Fortunes,
Sparks,
Bill Near,
Cheater Slicks,
Bush Tetras,
Lindisfarne,
Skaos,
Isaac Hayes,
Fela Kuti,
Reagan Youth,
The Motions,
Spoonie Gee,
Joe Smooth,
Smog,
Crispy Ambulance,
Zero Boys,
Roger Hodgson,
Organ,
Girls At Our Best!,
Boz Scaggs,
the Human League,
Minnie Riperton,
Danielle Patucci,
The Victims,
The Grass Roots,
CMW,
Warren Ellis,
Delta 5,
Fat Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sexual Harrassment,
Grey Daturas,
Chrome,
Saccharine Trust,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Althea and Donna,
Black Bananas,
The Modern Lovers,
Alphaville,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.