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 Denmark and from Houston.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Music Machine to the crunk 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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All ABC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
48th St. Collective,
Lakeside,
Bush Tetras,
Scientists,
Radio Birdman,
Con Funk Shun,
Jacob Miller,
Crooked Eye,
Silicon Teens,
Nik Kershaw,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Dirtbombs,
E-Dancer,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Motions,
Jeff Lynne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Schoolly D,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pole,
MC5,
Quadrant,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Angry Samoans,
Joe Finger,
UT,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Saints,
ABC,
June Days,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Leaves,
Dawn Penn,
Brass Construction,
Connie Case,
Shuggie Otis,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Black Sheep,
Sight & Sound,
Fluxion,
Intrusion,
Barrington Levy,
Black Flag,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Raincoats,
Kerrie Biddell,
Minny Pops,
In Retrospect,
Mandrill,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eric Copeland,
Sex Pistols,
Roxette,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.