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 Tanzania and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Boz Scaggs to the rap 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Livin' Joy,
LL Cool J,
Crash Course in Science,
The Remains,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pussy Galore,
Underground Resistance,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Cure,
The Five Americans,
The United States of America,
Robert Wyatt,
Moebius,
Letta Mbulu,
Moss Icon,
Oneida,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kenny Larkin,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Los Fastidios,
Skaos,
Matthew Bourne,
Surgeon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nas,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Drexciya,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Leaves,
The Walker Brothers,
The Smiths,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ludus,
Outsiders,
Donald Byrd,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Cramps,
Stiv Bators,
Eric Dolphy,
Bauhaus,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Swans,
Franke,
The Beau Brummels,
Crooked Eye,
Deakin,
Morten Harket,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Television Personalities,
Au Pairs,
OOIOO,
Shuggie Otis,
Soulsonic Force,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bobby Womack,
June of 44,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Roger Hodgson,
Fluxion,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.