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 Nigeria and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Spoonie Gee to the electroclash 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Massinfluence tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Minny Pops,
Gang Green,
Marine Girls,
Donald Byrd,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Wake,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Bar-Kays,
The Five Americans,
The Blues Magoos,
Animal Collective,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pierre Henry,
Tears for Fears,
Rufus Thomas,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marvin Gaye,
The Index,
Buzzcocks,
Vainqueur,
Idris Muhammad,
Godley & Creme,
Mission of Burma,
The Gories,
Arthur Verocai,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Slits,
Lalann,
Pantytec,
LL Cool J,
the Sonics,
The Victims,
Bill Near,
Boz Scaggs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pylon,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Qualms,
Blossom Toes,
Technova,
The Beau Brummels,
The Zeros,
Lucky Dragons,
Kevin Saunderson,
Freddie Wadling,
Livin' Joy,
Vladislav Delay,
The Litter,
ABBA,
the Normal,
Dave Gahan,
Tim Buckley,
The Detroit Cobras,
Procol Harum,
Fear,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Terry Callier,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.