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 Tuvalu and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin 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 Freddie Wadling to the disco 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Index,
Con Funk Shun,
Young Marble Giants,
The Names,
Bobby Womack,
The Gap Band,
DJ Style,
Black Sheep,
The American Breed,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bang On A Can,
The Doobie Brothers,
Chris Corsano,
Johnny Clarke,
Intrusion,
Pole,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
H. Thieme,
Skaos,
Massinfluence,
Tom Boy,
Moebius,
Piero Umiliani,
ABBA,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Minnie Riperton,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scion,
K-Klass,
F. McDonald,
Judy Mowatt,
Youth Brigade,
Hardrive,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Connie Case,
Lightning Bolt,
Faust,
Mantronix,
Kevin Saunderson,
John Lydon,
The Shadows of Knight,
World's Most,
Khruangbin,
The Gories,
Pussy Galore,
Surgeon,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nik Kershaw,
The Smiths,
The Toasters,
Sparks,
Easy Going,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gastr Del Sol,
Au Pairs,
Eden Ahbez,
Desert Stars,
Bizarre Inc.,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.