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 Belarus and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the sitar 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 Livin' Joy to the rock 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders 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?
The J.B.'s,
The Sonics,
Barclay James Harvest,
Wolf Eyes,
The Selecter,
Kenny Larkin,
Josef K,
The Dirtbombs,
Whodini,
The Residents,
Can,
Blossom Toes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
X-Ray Spex,
Animal Collective,
Unwound,
Gastr Del Sol,
Tears for Fears,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
R.M.O.,
Echospace,
Curtis Mayfield,
Harry Pussy,
Roy Ayers,
The Golliwogs,
Deadbeat,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Judy Mowatt,
Dead Boys,
Main Source,
Flipper,
Eli Mardock,
Sight & Sound,
Suburban Knight,
Crash Course in Science,
Faraquet,
Morten Harket,
Bob Dylan,
Infiniti,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ultra Naté,
Desert Stars,
Tubeway Army,
The Mummies,
These Immortal Souls,
Gang Green,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Knickerbockers,
The United States of America,
the Germs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Pharoah Sanders,
Warren Ellis,
Bill Wells,
Marc Almond,
Porter Ricks,
Blancmange,
Crime,
Circle Jerks,
Average White Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.