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 Philippines and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Morten Harket to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Faust,
Aswad,
Kaleidoscope,
Bootsy Collins,
Soul II Soul,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
10cc,
Minor Threat,
The Martian,
The Electric Prunes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dual Sessions,
Carl Craig,
Eden Ahbez,
Dark Day,
Sound Behaviour,
Eve St. Jones,
Intrusion,
James White and The Blacks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sam Rivers,
Country Teasers,
Fat Boys,
F. McDonald,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Stooges,
The Happenings,
Sarah Menescal,
The Blues Magoos,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Whodini,
Bush Tetras,
Magma,
Scientists,
Jesper Dahlback,
Hardrive,
The Residents,
Lakeside,
Laurel Aitken,
Sparks,
Gang of Four,
Blancmange,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Malaria!,
Marc Almond,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Aaron Thompson,
Nirvana,
In Retrospect,
The Slackers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Deadbeat,
The Sound,
Cheater Slicks,
Pierre Henry,
Mark Hollis,
Shuggie Otis,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Absolute Body Control,
Inner City,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.