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 Micronesia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Desert Stars to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Yaz,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Normal,
the Fania All-Stars,
Harry Pussy,
A Certain Ratio,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Index,
Quadrant,
New Age Steppers,
Soul II Soul,
China Crisis,
kango's stein massive,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Motions,
Brand Nubian,
Quantec,
Moby Grape,
Zapp,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Fugs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Fortunes,
Bootsy Collins,
Index,
Nirvana,
In Retrospect,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Red Krayola,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Monochrome Set,
The Stooges,
Eric Dolphy,
The Trojans,
Subhumans,
The Young Rascals,
Agent Orange,
the Bar-Kays,
X-101,
Pierre Henry,
The Walker Brothers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Loose Ends,
Liliput,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Amazonics,
The Leaves,
Rotary Connection,
Clear Light,
The Victims,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Skriet,
Sun Ra,
Sällskapet,
Surgeon,
Roy Ayers,
Deepchord,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.