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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Columbus.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 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 The Gap Band to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Arthur Verocai,
Saccharine Trust,
Bang On A Can,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Organ,
Sister Nancy,
Ornette Coleman,
X-Ray Spex,
The Black Dice,
Mantronix,
Desert Stars,
The Walker Brothers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joyce Sims,
Harry Pussy,
The Cure,
Royal Trux,
the Association,
The Neon Judgement,
the Bar-Kays,
48th St. Collective,
The Dirtbombs,
The Slits,
Mary Jane Girls,
Brothers Johnson,
Panda Bear,
Ronan,
Fluxion,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Radio Birdman,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Birthday Party,
Popol Vuh,
Dave Gahan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Zero Boys,
Pulsallama,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Little Man,
Jeff Mills,
The Invisible,
Lindisfarne,
Qualms,
Erykah Badu,
Gabor Szabo,
Susan Cadogan,
Bill Wells,
JFA,
Godley & Creme,
Tropical Tobacco,
Q and Not U,
H. Thieme,
Chris & Cosey,
DJ Sneak,
The Busters,
Skaos,
Lower 48,
cv313,
Spandau Ballet,
The Grass Roots,
Roxy Music,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.