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 Ivory Coast and from Manila.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Blackbyrds to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Aswad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Iggy Pop,
Wally Richardson,
Ralphi Rosario,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rites of Spring,
Severed Heads,
Henry Cow,
Graham Central Station,
Livin' Joy,
The Buckinghams,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
These Immortal Souls,
Aloha Tigers,
Al Stewart,
Q65,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Association,
Oneida,
Supertramp,
Silicon Teens,
Tom Boy,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Star Department,
Lou Reed,
Judy Mowatt,
Boredoms,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Blackbyrds,
Monolake,
New York Dolls,
Shoche,
Gregory Isaacs,
Chrome,
Eden Ahbez,
The Young Rascals,
Unrelated Segments,
Motorama,
the Sonics,
Scrapy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kerri Chandler,
Pantytec,
Second Layer,
The Move,
Lightning Bolt,
The Music Machine,
Throbbing Gristle,
KRS-One,
The Techniques,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Scientists,
The Fuzztones,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Gap Band,
Lyres,
The Cramps,
Simply Red,
Interpol,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
B.T. Express,
Buzzcocks,
Avey Tare,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.