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 Bahamas and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 güiro 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 Rapeman to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rosa Yemen,
Aswad,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sun City Girls,
Gang Green,
U.S. Maple,
The Doors,
Altered Images,
Ohio Players,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pole,
Moby Grape,
Groovy Waters,
The Dead C,
Parry Music,
The Walker Brothers,
The Stooges,
Animal Collective,
AZ,
Eric Dolphy,
Wasted Youth,
Young Marble Giants,
John Cale,
Organ,
Flash Fearless,
Gang of Four,
Banda Bassotti,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ornette Coleman,
Crispy Ambulance,
Los Fastidios,
Stereo Dub,
Mantronix,
Jeff Mills,
Q65,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tom Boy,
The Electric Prunes,
Surgeon,
Metal Thangz,
Section 25,
MDC,
Gerry Rafferty,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cymande,
Intrusion,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lou Reed,
Jeff Lynne,
Reuben Wilson,
Archie Shepp,
Stiv Bators,
Moss Icon,
Juan Atkins,
Khruangbin,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Smoke,
Wings,
Grandmaster Flash,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.