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 Iceland and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 The Dead C to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Grandmaster Flash,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marvin Gaye,
Smog,
Sex Pistols,
Quadrant,
Cymande,
The Mummies,
The Gladiators,
Roxette,
Godley & Creme,
Oneida,
Erasure,
The Monochrome Set,
Kenny Larkin,
The Gun Club,
Carl Craig,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gerry Rafferty,
Chris & Cosey,
Zero Boys,
The Index,
Outsiders,
Yellowson,
Arab on Radar,
Judy Mowatt,
Spandau Ballet,
Hot Snakes,
Jacques Brel,
Marmalade,
The Vogues,
ABC,
Dark Day,
Massinfluence,
June Days,
Jawbox,
Bang On A Can,
Tommy Roe,
Delta 5,
kango's stein massive,
The Electric Prunes,
Slave,
Ten City,
Eric Dolphy,
Todd Terry,
ABBA,
Pussy Galore,
Desert Stars,
Pagans,
Zapp,
Janne Schatter,
Jimmy McGriff,
Aswad,
Aural Exciters,
Stockholm Monsters,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.