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 Indonesia and from Spokane.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the güiro 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 Fluxion to the funk 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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
KRS-One,
Gil Scott Heron,
Susan Cadogan,
The New Christs,
Deakin,
Sarah Menescal,
Bobby Byrd,
June of 44,
Harry Pussy,
Roxette,
Bush Tetras,
Theoretical Girls,
Trumans Water,
Dennis Brown,
Joe Smooth,
Black Moon,
Colin Newman,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ponytail,
Sun City Girls,
Eric B and Rakim,
Half Japanese,
New York Dolls,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mr. Review,
Brass Construction,
The Happenings,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dorothy Ashby,
Suburban Knight,
The Monochrome Set,
Brand Nubian,
Country Teasers,
The Slits,
Siglo XX,
Eurythmics,
Scan 7,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Chris & Cosey,
Con Funk Shun,
Pylon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Zapp,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gichy Dan,
Television,
La Düsseldorf,
The Victims,
The Real Kids,
Royal Trux,
DNA,
Smog,
Alton Ellis,
This Heat,
The Pretty Things,
Accadde A,
Ultimate Spinach,
Negative Approach,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.