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 Gabon and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Jakarta.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Misunderstood to the disco 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
R.M.O.,
Roy Ayers,
The Saints,
Lalo Schifrin,
Dual Sessions,
Panda Bear,
The Birthday Party,
Ice-T,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wolf Eyes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Yaz,
Amon Düül II,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Alphaville,
Crash Course in Science,
Sonny Sharrock,
Donald Byrd,
Donny Hathaway,
Tears for Fears,
New Age Steppers,
New Order,
Soft Cell,
Q and Not U,
Ponytail,
Bad Manners,
Royal Trux,
Sandy B,
Junior Murvin,
Malaria!,
The Blues Magoos,
John Foxx,
Babytalk,
Organ,
Danielle Patucci,
Soul II Soul,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Fortunes,
Arcadia,
Suicide,
Pulsallama,
Arthur Verocai,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Davy DMX,
The Index,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tubeway Army,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Marc Almond,
Sun Ra,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Blackbyrds,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Technova,
Q65,
MDC,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Banda Bassotti,
Surgeon,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.