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 East Timor and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Winnipeg.
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 rhodes 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the punk 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Flipper,
Toni Rubio,
Young Marble Giants,
June Days,
Sex Pistols,
Jeff Lynne,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Barrington Levy,
Soul II Soul,
Das Ding,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Alton Ellis,
Can,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Grey Daturas,
Darondo,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lyres,
Girls At Our Best!,
Scratch Acid,
Brothers Johnson,
Brick,
Kurtis Blow,
Lou Christie,
Little Man,
John Foxx,
Nirvana,
Magazine,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pulsallama,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Slits,
Davy DMX,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Aural Exciters,
Gang of Four,
The Pop Group,
Franke,
Simply Red,
Suicide,
Newcleus,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kerri Chandler,
Drexciya,
Leonard Cohen,
Gong,
Barbara Tucker,
OOIOO,
The Fuzztones,
Fat Boys,
Thee Headcoats,
Lower 48,
Lou Reed,
The Cramps,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
David Axelrod,
Surgeon,
K-Klass,
Von Mondo,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.