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 Bolivia and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Sun City Girls to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every AZ record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
Tres Demented,
Talk Talk,
John Holt,
Jawbox,
Marc Almond,
Interpol,
John Cale,
Yaz,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Matthew Bourne,
June of 44,
Siglo XX,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Walker Brothers,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Max Romeo,
Minutemen,
Symarip,
Absolute Body Control,
Masters at Work,
Pylon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kas Product,
Q and Not U,
Juan Atkins,
Iggy Pop,
Simply Red,
Don Cherry,
Gerry Rafferty,
ABBA,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Dead C,
Massinfluence,
The New Christs,
Yusef Lateef,
Audionom,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mandrill,
The Fortunes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Mojo Men,
Radiopuhelimet,
OOIOO,
Negative Approach,
Morten Harket,
Rufus Thomas,
Bronski Beat,
Echospace,
Con Funk Shun,
Fatback Band,
Flamin' Groovies,
Average White Band,
Newcleus,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Moby Grape,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Pretty Things,
Agent Orange,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.