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 Congo and from Copenhagen.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Glambeats Corp. to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Grauzone. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Andrew Hill,
Lou Christie,
Stockholm Monsters,
Interpol,
Outsiders,
Swell Maps,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Peter and Kerry,
Smog,
Scrapy,
The Wake,
Ken Boothe,
Flipper,
Intrusion,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kenny Larkin,
ABC,
The Divine Comedy,
Hashim,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lyres,
The Offenders,
Bobby Womack,
Lungfish,
Mission of Burma,
Toni Rubio,
The Standells,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobby Byrd,
Camberwell Now,
The Knickerbockers,
Bang On A Can,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Crash Course in Science,
Eddi Front,
Big Daddy Kane,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
X-101,
The Monks,
Amon Düül II,
Fela Kuti,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jeff Mills,
Section 25,
John Holt,
Jacques Brel,
Heaven 17,
Monks,
Lower 48,
The Slits,
Pussy Galore,
Mantronix,
Bill Near,
Bootsy Collins,
Cymande,
Roger Hodgson,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.