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 Germany and from Johannesburg.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Boogie Down Productions to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
The Last Poets,
The Techniques,
The Dead C,
John Cale,
The Tremeloes,
Juan Atkins,
Accadde A,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Remains,
Lakeside,
Mars,
Von Mondo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Yellowson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sandy B,
Aswad,
Sex Pistols,
The Victims,
Sugar Minott,
Slave,
Angry Samoans,
Q65,
The Fortunes,
Lou Reed,
Jeff Mills,
Soft Cell,
The Happenings,
Bush Tetras,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pere Ubu,
ABC,
The Count Five,
Radio Birdman,
Visage,
X-101,
Cybotron,
Deepchord,
Amazonics,
The Fire Engines,
The Busters,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Cowsills,
Flipper,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Sheep,
David Bowie,
Camouflage,
James Chance & The Contortions,
New Order,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Music Machine,
Country Teasers,
Procol Harum,
Nils Olav,
R.M.O.,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.