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 Equatorial Guinea and from Bologna.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 spring reverb 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 Donald Byrd to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Avey Tare,
X-101,
The Dead C,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Swell Maps,
Eden Ahbez,
Chris & Cosey,
The Leaves,
Con Funk Shun,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Warsaw,
The Evens,
Robert Hood,
Ten City,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dark Day,
Brothers Johnson,
Black Pus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Camouflage,
Country Teasers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Vladislav Delay,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Slits,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Slits,
Cecil Taylor,
The Fall,
Easy Going,
KRS-One,
Depeche Mode,
The Gladiators,
Pylon,
Gang Green,
Johnny Clarke,
Q and Not U,
the Normal,
Unrelated Segments,
Stetsasonic,
The American Breed,
The Sound,
Crime,
The Skatalites,
The Star Department,
L. Decosne,
The Velvet Underground,
Wasted Youth,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soft Cell,
The Neon Judgement,
Eddi Front,
Monolake,
Stiv Bators,
T.S.O.L.,
David Axelrod,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Black Bananas,
Technova,
The Standells,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.