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 Iceland and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Salvador.
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 rhodes 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 Bang On A Can to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
Absolute Body Control,
The Gun Club,
Black Pus,
Rakim,
Davy DMX,
Pierre Henry,
The Music Machine,
kango's stein massive,
Flamin' Groovies,
Clear Light,
Stiv Bators,
Terrestrial Tones,
Donny Hathaway,
Little Man,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Television,
The Leaves,
Boogie Down Productions,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Pharoah Sanders,
Unrelated Segments,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The New Christs,
Banda Bassotti,
Archie Shepp,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Association,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Henry Cow,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Associates,
Junior Murvin,
Popol Vuh,
R.M.O.,
Eric Copeland,
Cheater Slicks,
Shoche,
The Five Americans,
Cal Tjader,
Public Enemy,
Andrew Hill,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Crispy Ambulance,
Procol Harum,
Max Romeo,
The Dead C,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gong,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Rotary Connection,
Soul Sonic Force,
Echospace,
Hashim,
It's A Beautiful Day,
New Order,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Negative Approach,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.