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 Angola 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 theremin 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 Cybotron to the disco 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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Essential Logic,
Mandrill,
Black Pus,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Misunderstood,
Eddi Front,
Darondo,
Minnie Riperton,
The Cowsills,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Young Marble Giants,
Tears for Fears,
Shoche,
Blossom Toes,
David Axelrod,
The Sound,
The Buckinghams,
10cc,
Mark Hollis,
Radiohead,
Pussy Galore,
The Tremeloes,
The Fuzztones,
Echospace,
Traffic Nightmare,
Nick Fraelich,
Scan 7,
Neu!,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sam Rivers,
Los Fastidios,
Althea and Donna,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Average White Band,
Pierre Henry,
E-Dancer,
Yellowson,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fall,
Peter & Gordon,
John Cale,
The Move,
Kenny Larkin,
Harmonia,
Roxette,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jerry's Kids,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bobby Byrd,
Roy Ayers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Con Funk Shun,
Lou Christie,
Marvin Gaye,
Charles Mingus,
The Blues Magoos,
Roger Hodgson,
Basic Channel,
Negative Approach,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.