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 Ireland and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Magazine 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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ludus,
Bauhaus,
Donald Byrd,
Kenny Larkin,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bill Wells,
David Axelrod,
Model 500,
June of 44,
Man Parrish,
Anakelly,
Infiniti,
Faraquet,
Yellowson,
The Dead C,
Matthew Halsall,
Brass Construction,
Malaria!,
Barrington Levy,
Los Fastidios,
Soft Machine,
Japan,
Ten City,
Porter Ricks,
Simply Red,
The Busters,
Susan Cadogan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nico,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Mojo Men,
Skriet,
Colin Newman,
Brand Nubian,
The Toasters,
Whodini,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fela Kuti,
Metal Thangz,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gang Starr,
Eden Ahbez,
New Order,
Bush Tetras,
AZ,
Fear,
New York Dolls,
Lindisfarne,
Eric Copeland,
Charles Mingus,
Jerry Gold Smith,
F. McDonald,
Sight & Sound,
Pagans,
the Normal,
The Wake,
R.M.O.,
Prince Buster,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.