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 Japan and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Model 500 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Ponytail,
Zapp,
Bad Manners,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
X-102,
Idris Muhammad,
Rotary Connection,
The Invisible,
The Techniques,
Rufus Thomas,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Divine Comedy,
This Heat,
a-ha,
Monks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mars,
Reagan Youth,
Hashim,
Talk Talk,
Black Moon,
Roger Hodgson,
Neil Young,
The Last Poets,
Crash Course in Science,
Aaron Thompson,
Anakelly,
Frankie Knuckles,
Subhumans,
Eden Ahbez,
Tom Boy,
Iggy Pop,
T. Rex,
Amon Düül II,
Metal Thangz,
Cecil Taylor,
E-Dancer,
Ultimate Spinach,
Eddi Front,
DNA,
Chris Corsano,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Real Kids,
Connie Case,
Sam Rivers,
Lucky Dragons,
Soul Sonic Force,
Nico,
Tim Buckley,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tubeway Army,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pulsallama,
Funkadelic,
Pole,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Angry Samoans,
Severed Heads,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.