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 San Marino and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 David Bowie 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 D'Angelo to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All E-Dancer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Animal Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Patti Smith,
Pantaleimon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Trojans,
Franke,
Bluetip,
The Dave Clark Five,
Suicide,
Piero Umiliani,
Letta Mbulu,
Brand Nubian,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Boz Scaggs,
Arab on Radar,
Ossler,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tom Boy,
L. Decosne,
Eli Mardock,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rapeman,
Reagan Youth,
Infiniti,
Wasted Youth,
Royal Trux,
Black Moon,
Gregory Isaacs,
K-Klass,
Marine Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Germs,
cv313,
ABBA,
Lyres,
Fugazi,
Tropical Tobacco,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pussy Galore,
The Sound,
The Cowsills,
D'Angelo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tomorrow,
The Busters,
Blake Baxter,
Cameo,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Radiohead,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Matthew Bourne,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Dead C,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rod Modell,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
John Coltrane,
Todd Rundgren,
Aural Exciters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.