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 Andorra and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Silicon Teens to the crunk 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 Ash Ra Tempel. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Suicide,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gerry Rafferty,
Stetsasonic,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bluetip,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Maleditus Sound,
Terry Callier,
Drexciya,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gang Starr,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pierre Henry,
Nils Olav,
June Days,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Y Pants,
Surgeon,
X-Ray Spex,
The Divine Comedy,
Man Parrish,
Flamin' Groovies,
Radiohead,
the Bar-Kays,
Darondo,
Royal Trux,
Jerry's Kids,
Funky Four + One,
Babytalk,
Crooked Eye,
The Knickerbockers,
Das Ding,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Toasters,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Saints,
Spandau Ballet,
Jacob Miller,
Tres Demented,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Durutti Column,
Boredoms,
Eden Ahbez,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Althea and Donna,
Gabor Szabo,
Eurythmics,
The Angels of Light,
Tropical Tobacco,
Anakelly,
The Sound,
Crash Course in Science,
Cal Tjader,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.