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 Madagascar and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Wally Richardson 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Intrusion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
UT,
The Count Five,
Arab on Radar,
Cluster,
Erasure,
Clear Light,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Litter,
Tubeway Army,
Q and Not U,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Moleskins,
Nils Olav,
Sarah Menescal,
Graham Central Station,
Banda Bassotti,
Jerry's Kids,
AZ,
DJ Sneak,
OOIOO,
Quantec,
New Age Steppers,
Brothers Johnson,
The J.B.'s,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bob Dylan,
Chris & Cosey,
Bill Wells,
The Saints,
Television Personalities,
Ken Boothe,
Mark Hollis,
Nas,
Eurythmics,
Mr. Review,
The Star Department,
Ronnie Foster,
The Mummies,
Max Romeo,
Tears for Fears,
Scan 7,
The Shadows of Knight,
Quando Quango,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Y Pants,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
48th St. Collective,
Letta Mbulu,
Ten City,
Aswad,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Seeds,
The Misunderstood,
FM Einheit,
Au Pairs,
Gastr Del Sol,
One Last Wish,
Marine Girls,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.