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 Nauru and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 snare 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Young Marble Giants,
Alice Coltrane,
Yusef Lateef,
Camouflage,
The Trojans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Colin Newman,
Cymande,
Yellowson,
Scratch Acid,
Rod Modell,
The Move,
Henry Cow,
Clear Light,
Wings,
The Saints,
Suicide,
Massinfluence,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Todd Terry,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Country Joe & The Fish,
H. Thieme,
Maleditus Sound,
Al Stewart,
Infiniti,
Harpers Bizarre,
Black Pus,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Music Machine,
The Sonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Freddie Wadling,
Country Teasers,
Excepter,
Bauhaus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
DNA,
Scrapy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wally Richardson,
Roy Ayers,
Nirvana,
The Birthday Party,
Kaleidoscope,
Cybotron,
Aaron Thompson,
Television Personalities,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ohio Players,
Khruangbin,
Second Layer,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Fuzztones,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mars,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.