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 Burkina and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 The Alarm Clocks to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Icehouse,
The Moody Blues,
Dead Boys,
Tommy Roe,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Electric Prunes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Thompson Twins,
Dorothy Ashby,
Donald Byrd,
Babytalk,
Albert Ayler,
ABBA,
The Zeros,
The Saints,
The Slackers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sight & Sound,
Bootsy Collins,
Swans,
Yusef Lateef,
The American Breed,
Interpol,
The Durutti Column,
Juan Atkins,
The Fortunes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Deakin,
Spoonie Gee,
Cal Tjader,
Nas,
Goldenarms,
Sex Pistols,
The Human League,
Kerri Chandler,
Sonny Sharrock,
Henry Cow,
Severed Heads,
Godley & Creme,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Maurizio,
Unrelated Segments,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
These Immortal Souls,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sister Nancy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Radiopuhelimet,
Letta Mbulu,
Pantaleimon,
Rod Modell,
Quadrant,
Guru Guru,
Dennis Brown,
Radio Birdman,
Black Sheep,
The Blackbyrds,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.