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 Malaysia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 organ 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Au Pairs. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Doobie Brothers,
48th St. Collective,
Kerrie Biddell,
Peter & Gordon,
Brick,
Isaac Hayes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mars,
Rekid,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Sonics,
Main Source,
Aswad,
In Retrospect,
The Fugs,
Wire,
Eli Mardock,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Bar-Kays,
Saccharine Trust,
Neu!,
Lee Hazlewood,
Archie Shepp,
OOIOO,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cecil Taylor,
Roxette,
The Star Department,
Grauzone,
Symarip,
Little Man,
KRS-One,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ituana,
Joe Finger,
Jesper Dahlback,
These Immortal Souls,
Sam Rivers,
Blossom Toes,
Letta Mbulu,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Remains,
New Age Steppers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jandek,
Tubeway Army,
F. McDonald,
Ken Boothe,
DJ Style,
The Searchers,
Tomorrow,
Eve St. Jones,
Kerri Chandler,
Eurythmics,
8 Eyed Spy,
kango's stein massive,
This Heat,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.