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 Equatorial Guinea and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 güiro 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 June Days to the dance 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Roxette tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Charles Mingus,
Lightning Bolt,
Yazoo,
The Walker Brothers,
Can,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
James White and The Blacks,
Connie Case,
Jandek,
Suicide,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Joyce Sims,
The Buckinghams,
Trumans Water,
Archie Shepp,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Victims,
MDC,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Gladiators,
Nation of Ulysses,
Warsaw,
Public Image Ltd.,
Graham Central Station,
Todd Terry,
Marvin Gaye,
Howard Jones,
Dawn Penn,
AZ,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Moleskins,
The Moody Blues,
Amazonics,
Silicon Teens,
Lindisfarne,
Cecil Taylor,
Von Mondo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ultra Naté,
Neu!,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Dave Gahan,
K-Klass,
DJ Style,
Vladislav Delay,
Goldenarms,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fatback Band,
Agitation Free,
Alton Ellis,
Stetsasonic,
Lyres,
Electric Prunes,
Echospace,
Depeche Mode,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band.
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.