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 Honduras and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lalo Schifrin to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Buckinghams,
Joe Smooth,
Black Moon,
Icehouse,
48th St. Collective,
Alice Coltrane,
U.S. Maple,
The Neon Judgement,
Funkadelic,
Radio Birdman,
Technova,
Interpol,
Trumans Water,
Nas,
Rapeman,
Ohio Players,
Nirvana,
The Star Department,
Royal Trux,
Laurel Aitken,
Pierre Henry,
Altered Images,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bob Dylan,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Normal,
Dark Day,
Nick Fraelich,
The Slackers,
The Saints,
Matthew Halsall,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
DJ Style,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Amon Düül,
Lightning Bolt,
The Toasters,
Model 500,
The Fall,
The Index,
Marshall Jefferson,
Iggy Pop,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Quando Quango,
Minny Pops,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marvin Gaye,
Second Layer,
Mo-Dettes,
Derrick Morgan,
June of 44,
Amazonics,
Vladislav Delay,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Archie Shepp,
Little Man,
Susan Cadogan,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.