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 Slovenia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 New Age Steppers to the rock 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin 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 J.B.'s,
The Move,
Gastr Del Sol,
Masters at Work,
Sister Nancy,
Q and Not U,
Albert Ayler,
Cameo,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Smog,
Faust,
Skaos,
Brick,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Aural Exciters,
Panda Bear,
Spoonie Gee,
Dark Day,
the Germs,
Reagan Youth,
Kenny Larkin,
The Black Dice,
The Monks,
Jacob Miller,
Wally Richardson,
Stetsasonic,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nirvana,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Prince Buster,
John Cale,
The Selecter,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pet Shop Boys,
Monks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Buckinghams,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Fuzztones,
Goldenarms,
Shoche,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Con Funk Shun,
David Bowie,
Black Moon,
The Cure,
DJ Style,
KRS-One,
Dennis Brown,
Infiniti,
Banda Bassotti,
the Human League,
The Cramps,
Bang On A Can,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dawn Penn,
The Invisible,
The Birthday Party,
Boredoms,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.