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 Chad and from Glasgow.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Chris Corsano to the grime 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 Essential Logic. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minor Threat 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Fatback Band,
Lyres,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Surgeon,
Reuben Wilson,
These Immortal Souls,
The Red Krayola,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kerri Chandler,
The Cure,
Curtis Mayfield,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Real Kids,
The Mojo Men,
Cluster,
The Modern Lovers,
The Mummies,
FM Einheit,
The Birthday Party,
Anthony Braxton,
Pole,
Faraquet,
Camouflage,
Soul Sonic Force,
Country Joe & The Fish,
H. Thieme,
Boz Scaggs,
Man Parrish,
Index,
Barrington Levy,
the Soft Cell,
Nas,
In Retrospect,
X-101,
Radiopuhelimet,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rotary Connection,
Wolf Eyes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jawbox,
Johnny Osbourne,
Davy DMX,
Grey Daturas,
Depeche Mode,
LL Cool J,
Eddi Front,
Deadbeat,
Marshall Jefferson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Black Bananas,
Roger Hodgson,
Colin Newman,
Pantytec,
Absolute Body Control,
The Invisible,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Inner City,
Electric Prunes,
Schoolly D,
Ludus,
The Dirtbombs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.