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 Benin and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 rhodes 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 Rakim to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J 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 jazz 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 snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Godley & Creme,
Chris & Cosey,
Marcia Griffiths,
Visage,
X-Ray Spex,
Cheater Slicks,
Skaos,
Agent Orange,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Index,
H. Thieme,
Massinfluence,
Hot Snakes,
Flipper,
cv313,
Glambeats Corp.,
Colin Newman,
Wally Richardson,
Wolf Eyes,
Janne Schatter,
Cecil Taylor,
Blancmange,
Intrusion,
Scratch Acid,
Jerry Gold Smith,
This Heat,
The Toasters,
Ultravox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Seeds,
Malaria!,
The Flesh Eaters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Brothers Johnson,
Freddie Wadling,
Bill Wells,
Donny Hathaway,
The Dirtbombs,
China Crisis,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Germs,
The Red Krayola,
The Barracudas,
Mark Hollis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jacques Brel,
Kaleidoscope,
MDC,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Hoover,
Joe Finger,
Bush Tetras,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bobby Byrd,
Jeff Mills,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Crime,
The Real Kids,
Minutemen,
Infiniti,
Oneida,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.