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 San Marino and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bauhaus to the punk 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mark Hollis,
The Happenings,
Jerry's Kids,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dawn Penn,
Rekid,
Khruangbin,
The Martian,
Chris Corsano,
Public Image Ltd.,
Siglo XX,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Neon Judgement,
Alison Limerick,
Bluetip,
The Searchers,
X-Ray Spex,
Guru Guru,
Second Layer,
Fat Boys,
Rufus Thomas,
AZ,
The Gladiators,
Harmonia,
Mars,
Dual Sessions,
Maurizio,
Ten City,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roy Ayers,
Sam Rivers,
Lightning Bolt,
Yellowson,
Bobby Womack,
Anthony Braxton,
Neu!,
Rotary Connection,
Kayak,
Delta 5,
Theoretical Girls,
Banda Bassotti,
Camouflage,
Donald Byrd,
Clear Light,
Slave,
Half Japanese,
Fela Kuti,
Roxette,
Cluster,
Eyeless In Gaza,
B.T. Express,
Rod Modell,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.