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 Gambia and from Edmonton.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 The Residents to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Rekid,
John Holt,
Scientists,
Magma,
Soft Machine,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Fugazi,
Second Layer,
EPMD,
Graham Central Station,
The Golliwogs,
Bobby Womack,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gichy Dan,
The Pretty Things,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lalo Schifrin,
Aloha Tigers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Terry Callier,
Robert Görl,
Eve St. Jones,
Desert Stars,
ABBA,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
David Bowie,
Kurtis Blow,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Delon & Dalcan,
Blossom Toes,
Main Source,
Banda Bassotti,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sparks,
Prince Buster,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Groovy Waters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Deadbeat,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eli Mardock,
Derrick Morgan,
Donald Byrd,
The Cramps,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Stockholm Monsters,
Byron Stingily,
The Leaves,
Lucky Dragons,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Slits,
Soulsonic Force,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Negative Approach,
The Slits,
Crash Course in Science,
Iggy Pop,
Joey Negro,
The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers.
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.