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 Austria and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Sexual Harrassment to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
10cc,
Eddi Front,
The Smiths,
Kenny Larkin,
Malaria!,
Laurel Aitken,
John Holt,
Warren Ellis,
June Days,
The Saints,
JFA,
The Dead C,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Fire Engines,
The Skatalites,
Camouflage,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Average White Band,
Prince Buster,
Brass Construction,
Curtis Mayfield,
Animal Collective,
The Star Department,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pet Shop Boys,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Fatback Band,
Bobby Hutcherson,
DNA,
Zapp,
Chris Corsano,
T.S.O.L.,
Bauhaus,
Gang Starr,
Glenn Branca,
The Names,
Terry Callier,
Spoonie Gee,
Sam Rivers,
Bang On A Can,
Q65,
Toni Rubio,
Trumans Water,
Todd Rundgren,
Deepchord,
Bobby Byrd,
The Dirtbombs,
Freddie Wadling,
Juan Atkins,
Schoolly D,
Janne Schatter,
Suicide,
The Divine Comedy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Chris & Cosey,
The Cure,
Interpol,
Rhythm & Sound,
Cameo,
Moby Grape,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Soulsonic Force,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.