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 Benin and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Tomorrow to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
New Age Steppers,
cv313,
Jawbox,
The Gladiators,
Don Cherry,
The Beau Brummels,
Sister Nancy,
Roy Ayers,
Letta Mbulu,
Dead Boys,
The Smoke,
Charles Mingus,
Deakin,
Jerry's Kids,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Organ,
Absolute Body Control,
the Association,
Carl Craig,
Kaleidoscope,
Jeru the Damaja,
Silicon Teens,
Grey Daturas,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rotary Connection,
Bill Wells,
Crispian St. Peters,
Slick Rick,
Joe Smooth,
Agent Orange,
Black Moon,
Man Parrish,
Cameo,
Delta 5,
The Slits,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
OOIOO,
Section 25,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Anakelly,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Tremeloes,
Severed Heads,
The Dead C,
The Moody Blues,
Fatback Band,
Royal Trux,
The Cowsills,
Quantec,
The Red Krayola,
The Angels of Light,
Excepter,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sarah Menescal,
Cheater Slicks,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.