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 Norway and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Ossler,
the Association,
Simply Red,
R.M.O.,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Index,
JFA,
The Standells,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Skatalites,
T. Rex,
Gong,
Letta Mbulu,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Techniques,
Mission of Burma,
Ultra Naté,
Audionom,
Harpers Bizarre,
Essential Logic,
Donny Hathaway,
Robert Hood,
Cymande,
Gang of Four,
The Victims,
The Mojo Men,
Half Japanese,
E-Dancer,
Crooked Eye,
The Dirtbombs,
Lou Christie,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scrapy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Soft Cell,
Black Sheep,
The Modern Lovers,
Eli Mardock,
The Seeds,
Prince Buster,
Lungfish,
Dawn Penn,
Blancmange,
Erasure,
Derrick Morgan,
The Fugs,
Sun City Girls,
Procol Harum,
John Holt,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nirvana,
Khruangbin,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Anakelly,
The Blues Magoos,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Smog,
Hasil Adkins,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.