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 Ghana and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 snare 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 ABBA to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Slick Rick,
Nirvana,
Pierre Henry,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Make Up,
Motorama,
The Smiths,
Boogie Down Productions,
ABBA,
Das Ding,
The Beau Brummels,
Zapp,
Nick Fraelich,
Public Enemy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eric Dolphy,
Wasted Youth,
Amon Düül,
Hoover,
The Martian,
The New Christs,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Subhumans,
John Coltrane,
Royal Trux,
The Blues Magoos,
The Gories,
Archie Shepp,
The Remains,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Loose Ends,
Spandau Ballet,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Camberwell Now,
Fatback Band,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Camouflage,
Symarip,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scientists,
Main Source,
Brothers Johnson,
Joey Negro,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ituana,
Eddi Front,
the Normal,
Jesper Dahlback,
Black Moon,
The Wake,
Juan Atkins,
Kerrie Biddell,
David McCallum,
Bobby Sherman,
the Germs,
Vainqueur,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.