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 Egypt and from New York.
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 Milan and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Crash Course in Science to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cure. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Massinfluence record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Groovy Waters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Technova,
Ralphi Rosario,
Model 500,
Angry Samoans,
Skriet,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Grey Daturas,
Infiniti,
Sparks,
Fear,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tim Buckley,
Flamin' Groovies,
Stetsasonic,
Shoche,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Howard Jones,
The Vogues,
Fad Gadget,
Ludus,
Mark Hollis,
Amon Düül II,
Youth Brigade,
Al Stewart,
X-Ray Spex,
The Skatalites,
Scrapy,
The Mojo Men,
Animal Collective,
Silicon Teens,
The Alarm Clocks,
Minor Threat,
the Fania All-Stars,
Juan Atkins,
Eli Mardock,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
EPMD,
The Blues Magoos,
David McCallum,
Barry Ungar,
The Sound,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dead Boys,
Jawbox,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Faust,
Whodini,
Dave Gahan,
Radiohead,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Searchers,
The Walker Brothers,
Theoretical Girls,
Gichy Dan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nirvana,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Depeche Mode,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.