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 Indonesia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Lou Reed 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 Last Poets to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Slackers. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pet Shop Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Franke,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Sonics,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Slick Rick,
Donald Byrd,
Jeff Mills,
The Tremeloes,
Symarip,
Andrew Hill,
Basic Channel,
Brothers Johnson,
Gil Scott Heron,
K-Klass,
Cymande,
Terry Callier,
Lindisfarne,
The Fortunes,
Quadrant,
Fugazi,
The Gun Club,
Soul II Soul,
The Skatalites,
The Happenings,
ABC,
Essential Logic,
Spoonie Gee,
Joey Negro,
Con Funk Shun,
Rakim,
Yaz,
Dual Sessions,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Monolake,
Wire,
Black Bananas,
Harpers Bizarre,
T. Rex,
Can,
John Lydon,
Technova,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Darondo,
Ice-T,
The Saints,
Vladislav Delay,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lebanon Hanover,
Faraquet,
Popol Vuh,
Robert Hood,
Kaleidoscope,
Yellowson,
Y Pants,
EPMD,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Associates,
The Fall,
Alice Coltrane,
Dennis Brown,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.