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 Hungary and from Calgary.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the punk 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 Mo-Dettes. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soulsonic Force record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
Gang Gang Dance,
Scientists,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Saints,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultra Naté,
Visage,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lightning Bolt,
Radio Birdman,
Cluster,
The Birthday Party,
Reuben Wilson,
The Golliwogs,
Charles Mingus,
Underground Resistance,
Blossom Toes,
Ohio Players,
Scion,
Man Eating Sloth,
Warsaw,
Grey Daturas,
Danielle Patucci,
The Last Poets,
the Fania All-Stars,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Davy DMX,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Soft Cell,
Joy Division,
Negative Approach,
Severed Heads,
cv313,
Bobby Byrd,
Todd Rundgren,
Iggy Pop,
Tommy Roe,
Magazine,
Mission of Burma,
Alphaville,
Angry Samoans,
Drive Like Jehu,
Robert Görl,
U.S. Maple,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soft Cell,
Pulsallama,
Curtis Mayfield,
Donald Byrd,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Harmonia,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Swans,
The Names,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Theoretical Girls,
Ossler,
Cecil Taylor,
Arthur Verocai,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.