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 Israel and from Toronto.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the disco 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 Sun Ra. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Flipper,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jeff Lynne,
The Sonics,
June Days,
Trumans Water,
Todd Rundgren,
Ultimate Spinach,
Goldenarms,
John Coltrane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Country Teasers,
The Toasters,
Stockholm Monsters,
Delon & Dalcan,
DJ Style,
The Monochrome Set,
Harry Pussy,
Unrelated Segments,
Pharoah Sanders,
Khruangbin,
One Last Wish,
Panda Bear,
Cal Tjader,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Little Man,
Kaleidoscope,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Human League,
Eurythmics,
Johnny Clarke,
Simply Red,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gang of Four,
Marshall Jefferson,
Intrusion,
The Mojo Men,
Jimmy McGriff,
Donald Byrd,
8 Eyed Spy,
Neil Young,
The Smoke,
Kevin Saunderson,
Chrome,
Wire,
Magazine,
Pantaleimon,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
DNA,
The Red Krayola,
The New Christs,
New Order,
The Index,
Symarip,
The Monks,
Young Marble Giants,
The Martian,
the Association,
Funkadelic,
The Buckinghams,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.