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 Romania and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Salvador.
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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bar-Kays to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Neu!,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ludus,
Isaac Hayes,
Sonic Youth,
The Star Department,
Sound Behaviour,
Scratch Acid,
Soul II Soul,
Leonard Cohen,
Main Source,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tim Buckley,
One Last Wish,
The Fuzztones,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sällskapet,
Slave,
The Monks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Aswad,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The American Breed,
Chris & Cosey,
Tubeway Army,
The Grass Roots,
Gang Gang Dance,
Yaz,
Saccharine Trust,
Sarah Menescal,
Hashim,
The Mummies,
Icehouse,
Echospace,
Quadrant,
Gang of Four,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Durutti Column,
The Litter,
Lower 48,
Ponytail,
Easy Going,
Eric Dolphy,
Crime,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Carl Craig,
Japan,
Fat Boys,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Frankie Knuckles,
World's Most,
Deadbeat,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Minny Pops,
a-ha,
KRS-One,
The Zeros,
Pulsallama,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.