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 Armenia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Robert Palmer 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 Buzzcocks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Nirvana,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Searchers,
The Fall,
Alton Ellis,
Eric Copeland,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cheater Slicks,
The New Christs,
Agitation Free,
Cabaret Voltaire,
LL Cool J,
Youth Brigade,
DJ Sneak,
The Smoke,
Tomorrow,
Subhumans,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eli Mardock,
the Germs,
Gichy Dan,
Arab on Radar,
Sixth Finger,
The Divine Comedy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Scott Walker,
Babytalk,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Q and Not U,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Anakelly,
Magma,
Soulsonic Force,
Motorama,
Neu!,
Juan Atkins,
Brick,
Desert Stars,
The Skatalites,
Gerry Rafferty,
Deepchord,
Piero Umiliani,
Q65,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Misunderstood,
Delta 5,
Blake Baxter,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Black Flag,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Toasters,
Shoche,
Bizarre Inc.,
Max Romeo,
Joe Finger,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bobby Sherman,
Kayak,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rites of Spring,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.