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 Bangladesh and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Shoche to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kaleidoscope record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Eve St. Jones,
Country Teasers,
Bobby Sherman,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Fall,
The Angels of Light,
Circle Jerks,
Tears for Fears,
Nas,
the Fania All-Stars,
David Axelrod,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Mission of Burma,
The Fugs,
Magma,
Lakeside,
The Human League,
Eurythmics,
Howard Jones,
The Grass Roots,
Yazoo,
A Certain Ratio,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lindisfarne,
Tres Demented,
The Star Department,
OOIOO,
The Litter,
World's Most,
The Toasters,
The Red Krayola,
Blake Baxter,
UT,
The Vogues,
Brothers Johnson,
Barbara Tucker,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lower 48,
Roy Ayers,
Agitation Free,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mars,
The Smiths,
The Motions,
Chrome,
Dead Boys,
Nik Kershaw,
Ohio Players,
David Bowie,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Scratch Acid,
Terry Callier,
Max Romeo,
Bang On A Can,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Letta Mbulu,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.