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 Switzerland and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Robert Palmer 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 Byron Stingily to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Mandrill,
The American Breed,
Moby Grape,
Suburban Knight,
Joensuu 1685,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The J.B.'s,
Panda Bear,
KRS-One,
Nils Olav,
Bobby Womack,
Robert Hood,
Danielle Patucci,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Moon,
Sugar Minott,
The Fuzztones,
Joy Division,
Altered Images,
UT,
Andrew Hill,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
DNA,
Skarface,
Depeche Mode,
Delta 5,
Massinfluence,
Accadde A,
The Five Americans,
MDC,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Funkadelic,
Whodini,
Cheater Slicks,
The Pretty Things,
The Monks,
Eric Dolphy,
Eric Copeland,
Absolute Body Control,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fall,
Nas,
The Raincoats,
Kayak,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ludus,
The Red Krayola,
Minutemen,
Bill Wells,
Average White Band,
The Grass Roots,
a-ha,
Rotary Connection,
Derrick May,
Brothers Johnson,
Drexciya,
The Litter,
cv313,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bluetip,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.