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 Uganda and from Copenhagen.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe 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 Aural Exciters to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joensuu 1685 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Rites of Spring,
Ossler,
Bizarre Inc.,
Organ,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Shadows of Knight,
Outsiders,
Soul II Soul,
Joy Division,
Arab on Radar,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Matthew Bourne,
Moby Grape,
Hardrive,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rotary Connection,
Chris Corsano,
Circle Jerks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Hoover,
K-Klass,
Bootsy Collins,
Soulsonic Force,
Blake Baxter,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jerry's Kids,
Michelle Simonal,
Joe Finger,
Das Ding,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Steve Hackett,
The Wake,
F. McDonald,
Man Eating Sloth,
Grey Daturas,
Moss Icon,
June of 44,
Gil Scott Heron,
Don Cherry,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Skriet,
Derrick Morgan,
Cluster,
Yaz,
Smog,
Masters at Work,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lou Reed,
Neu!,
The Tremeloes,
Babytalk,
the Normal,
Pylon,
Bush Tetras,
Pet Shop Boys,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Henry Cow,
The Fortunes,
kango's stein massive,
The American Breed,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.