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 Comoros and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Madrid.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gichy Dan to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalo Schifrin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Isaac Hayes,
Brand Nubian,
The Red Krayola,
Camouflage,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Carl Craig,
Liliput,
Peter and Kerry,
Yellowson,
Mad Mike,
Ultra Naté,
Soul Sonic Force,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Banda Bassotti,
Connie Case,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tomorrow,
The Tremeloes,
E-Dancer,
Dark Day,
Marc Almond,
Sex Pistols,
The J.B.'s,
Lalann,
Adolescents,
48th St. Collective,
Bootsy Collins,
Arcadia,
Oneida,
Television Personalities,
Henry Cow,
Funkadelic,
a-ha,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Bar-Kays,
Bobby Byrd,
Infiniti,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Todd Rundgren,
Excepter,
Sister Nancy,
Ultravox,
ABC,
Sixth Finger,
Ice-T,
Yazoo,
Dawn Penn,
Joensuu 1685,
Pere Ubu,
Index,
Bang On A Can,
Roy Ayers,
The Sound,
D'Angelo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Aural Exciters,
The Fall,
Cal Tjader,
Reagan Youth,
Minutemen,
Masters at Work,
Scrapy,
Young Marble Giants,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.