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 Costa Rica and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gap Band to the crunk 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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Sun City Girls,
Sixth Finger,
the Human League,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Electric Prunes,
H. Thieme,
Rosa Yemen,
Pierre Henry,
Jawbox,
Lungfish,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Underground Resistance,
Arab on Radar,
K-Klass,
Toni Rubio,
Piero Umiliani,
Symarip,
EPMD,
Crooked Eye,
Reuben Wilson,
Con Funk Shun,
Janne Schatter,
Scan 7,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lindisfarne,
48th St. Collective,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Grass Roots,
Wings,
Masters at Work,
Skarface,
The Smoke,
Monks,
Basic Channel,
The Techniques,
Fela Kuti,
The Mojo Men,
The Real Kids,
Au Pairs,
Harry Pussy,
The New Christs,
Motorama,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Buckinghams,
The American Breed,
Warsaw,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gang Green,
John Lydon,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Matthew Halsall,
Hasil Adkins,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gong,
Black Sheep,
The Gun Club,
The Skatalites,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Peter & Gordon,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch.
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.