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 Belize and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Motorama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalann record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Bill Wells,
David Axelrod,
Smog,
Magma,
Magazine,
Scratch Acid,
Porter Ricks,
Gabor Szabo,
Eric B and Rakim,
Cameo,
MC5,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Toni Rubio,
Japan,
Negative Approach,
Black Pus,
Alphaville,
Fat Boys,
Glambeats Corp.,
Alison Limerick,
10cc,
Reuben Wilson,
Shoche,
Charles Mingus,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pere Ubu,
Arab on Radar,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Deadbeat,
David Bowie,
The Fugs,
Hasil Adkins,
Kerri Chandler,
Matthew Bourne,
the Bar-Kays,
Tears for Fears,
The Searchers,
The New Christs,
Robert Görl,
Barry Ungar,
Simply Red,
Skarface,
Marmalade,
The Names,
Lou Christie,
The Durutti Column,
The J.B.'s,
Amazonics,
Metal Thangz,
Scion,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Prince Buster,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ronnie Foster,
Gichy Dan,
Anakelly,
Severed Heads,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Glenn Branca,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.