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 Kuwait and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 marimba 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 Angry Samoans to the grime 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu 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 chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chris Corsano record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
The Standells,
B.T. Express,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bad Manners,
New York Dolls,
Max Romeo,
Simply Red,
Warsaw,
Kaleidoscope,
The Gories,
Outsiders,
Tubeway Army,
Pylon,
EPMD,
Gong,
Toni Rubio,
The Cure,
LL Cool J,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bush Tetras,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ken Boothe,
The Knickerbockers,
E-Dancer,
Roxette,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fatback Band,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Stockholm Monsters,
Groovy Waters,
the Human League,
Inner City,
The Walker Brothers,
the Sonics,
Fad Gadget,
Organ,
Black Pus,
Ultra Naté,
Jeff Lynne,
Michelle Simonal,
Matthew Bourne,
Monks,
Nico,
James White and The Blacks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lindisfarne,
Negative Approach,
Rhythm & Sound,
Absolute Body Control,
Aaron Thompson,
Joe Finger,
Siglo XX,
The Modern Lovers,
Pantaleimon,
Cheater Slicks,
The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals.
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.