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 Iran and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Sao Paulo.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Television to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a LL Cool J record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Amon Düül II,
Howard Jones,
Derrick May,
Thompson Twins,
Chrome,
Erasure,
Joensuu 1685,
Depeche Mode,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Todd Rundgren,
Buzzcocks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fear,
Dennis Brown,
The Doors,
Reuben Wilson,
Television,
Joy Division,
Yellowson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
JFA,
Freddie Wadling,
Connie Case,
Delta 5,
Minutemen,
Harry Pussy,
Brothers Johnson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Zapp,
Kaleidoscope,
A Certain Ratio,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Flesh Eaters,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bang On A Can,
La Düsseldorf,
The Grass Roots,
Soul II Soul,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Franke,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gichy Dan,
Johnny Osbourne,
Al Stewart,
Black Flag,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ten City,
Popol Vuh,
Clear Light,
Public Image Ltd.,
Surgeon,
Minor Threat,
Parry Music,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nation of Ulysses,
Alton Ellis,
ABC,
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.