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 Spain and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 harpsichord 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 Patti Smith to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fad Gadget,
Colin Newman,
Outsiders,
Parry Music,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gong,
Mars,
Todd Rundgren,
Ralphi Rosario,
Barbara Tucker,
The Dirtbombs,
The Gap Band,
The Tremeloes,
the Sonics,
Saccharine Trust,
Reuben Wilson,
Mad Mike,
Monks,
Ice-T,
Hardrive,
Y Pants,
Flash Fearless,
Bobby Womack,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lou Reed,
Model 500,
H. Thieme,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Wolf Eyes,
The Mummies,
Make Up,
Black Pus,
Jacques Brel,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gang Green,
Isaac Hayes,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pantaleimon,
Davy DMX,
Zero Boys,
The Leaves,
Symarip,
Mandrill,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Bar-Kays,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cybotron,
Guru Guru,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sight & Sound,
Skaos,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Whodini,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ponytail,
Matthew Bourne,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Au Pairs,
ABC,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.