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 Argentina and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Liliput to the techno 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
The Martian,
The Real Kids,
Joy Division,
The Red Krayola,
The Residents,
Cymande,
Lakeside,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scott Walker,
Ludus,
The Seeds,
Rites of Spring,
X-Ray Spex,
Interpol,
Young Marble Giants,
Rhythm & Sound,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ultra Naté,
Scion,
The Sonics,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Michelle Simonal,
Cal Tjader,
Moss Icon,
B.T. Express,
Vladislav Delay,
Royal Trux,
Glambeats Corp.,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Dead C,
Buzzcocks,
Ronnie Foster,
David Bowie,
Franke,
June of 44,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
CMW,
Roy Ayers,
Curtis Mayfield,
New York Dolls,
Tim Buckley,
Spandau Ballet,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bauhaus,
Aural Exciters,
Black Pus,
Simply Red,
The Saints,
Kas Product,
Mad Mike,
The Velvet Underground,
Circle Jerks,
Yaz,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Index,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Half Japanese,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.