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 the UAE and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 chamberlin 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 New Christs 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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios 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?
Pylon,
48th St. Collective,
Graham Central Station,
Public Image Ltd.,
Susan Cadogan,
Depeche Mode,
Black Flag,
Roxette,
Tim Buckley,
The Last Poets,
Vladislav Delay,
Soul II Soul,
The Toasters,
Easy Going,
Gichy Dan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Franke,
The Buckinghams,
Warsaw,
Gastr Del Sol,
Todd Terry,
UT,
Urselle,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Shuggie Otis,
Rod Modell,
the Germs,
Mo-Dettes,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Neon Judgement,
Rufus Thomas,
Flipper,
Faust,
Camouflage,
Sandy B,
Judy Mowatt,
Sonny Sharrock,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rapeman,
Brand Nubian,
Cal Tjader,
Flamin' Groovies,
David McCallum,
Metal Thangz,
The Gap Band,
a-ha,
Alton Ellis,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Avey Tare,
Jacob Miller,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
L. Decosne,
Nils Olav,
Saccharine Trust,
Robert Hood,
Nick Fraelich,
The Doobie Brothers,
Unrelated Segments,
Thee Headcoats,
Kaleidoscope,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.