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 Djibouti and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Absolute Body Control to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Malaria!,
Angry Samoans,
DNA,
the Association,
New Age Steppers,
Charles Mingus,
The Gladiators,
Flipper,
Faraquet,
the Bar-Kays,
Donald Byrd,
the Slits,
Panda Bear,
ABC,
Loose Ends,
Symarip,
Curtis Mayfield,
Roy Ayers,
Deakin,
Gang Starr,
Marvin Gaye,
The Human League,
Gastr Del Sol,
Newcleus,
Flash Fearless,
Groovy Waters,
Nico,
Junior Murvin,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Minnie Riperton,
The Techniques,
Scion,
the Fania All-Stars,
Accadde A,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fall,
Rosa Yemen,
Tommy Roe,
The Grass Roots,
Underground Resistance,
Royal Trux,
Parry Music,
The Seeds,
The Fire Engines,
Yazoo,
EPMD,
Pulsallama,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
MDC,
Jeff Lynne,
Hot Snakes,
Can,
Fat Boys,
Suicide,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Raincoats,
The Skatalites,
E-Dancer,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Todd Rundgren,
Dawn Penn,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.