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 New Zealand and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 theremin 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 Zapp to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Smoke. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Gang Starr,
Newcleus,
Donny Hathaway,
Anthony Braxton,
Avey Tare,
Suburban Knight,
Sun Ra,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cluster,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Easy Going,
the Normal,
The Kinks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
10cc,
DJ Style,
the Fania All-Stars,
Danielle Patucci,
Mantronix,
The Moody Blues,
Circle Jerks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Toasters,
X-Ray Spex,
Scott Walker,
L. Decosne,
Kaleidoscope,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Laurel Aitken,
Suicide,
Second Layer,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ice-T,
Absolute Body Control,
Blancmange,
Ossler,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Connie Case,
Ornette Coleman,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pagans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dead Boys,
Junior Murvin,
Symarip,
The Last Poets,
The Real Kids,
the Association,
The Invisible,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Durutti Column,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kayak,
Quantec,
Anakelly,
Fatback Band,
Archie Shepp,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.