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 Tuvalu and from Bremen.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba 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 Minny Pops to the rock 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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Desert Stars,
Simply Red,
The Angels of Light,
Deakin,
Kenny Larkin,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gichy Dan,
Motorama,
Robert Görl,
X-102,
Pylon,
New Order,
The Grass Roots,
D'Angelo,
Letta Mbulu,
Infiniti,
Bill Wells,
Qualms,
Grandmaster Flash,
Traffic Nightmare,
Zero Boys,
Can,
Lightning Bolt,
Rekid,
Negative Approach,
Circle Jerks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bluetip,
Aaron Thompson,
Lou Reed,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Junior Murvin,
Roy Ayers,
Masters at Work,
The Alarm Clocks,
F. McDonald,
Faust,
The Busters,
Ludus,
Lee Hazlewood,
Popol Vuh,
The Golliwogs,
The Gladiators,
Ronan,
the Slits,
Ken Boothe,
Derrick May,
Wasted Youth,
Visage,
Agent Orange,
The Selecter,
The Misunderstood,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Connie Case,
Joyce Sims,
Outsiders,
The Divine Comedy,
The Moody Blues,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.