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 Gabon and from Edmonton.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Michael McDonald 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the techno 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
The Residents,
Iggy Pop,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ronnie Foster,
Fat Boys,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Stockholm Monsters,
Warren Ellis,
Camberwell Now,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fatback Band,
B.T. Express,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
K-Klass,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Angels of Light,
Unrelated Segments,
Prince Buster,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Visage,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Interpol,
Monks,
Marmalade,
The Cowsills,
The Grass Roots,
UT,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rufus Thomas,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lou Christie,
Sällskapet,
Ultimate Spinach,
48th St. Collective,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lightning Bolt,
Hot Snakes,
The Knickerbockers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Connie Case,
X-101,
Gichy Dan,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ponytail,
Pussy Galore,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
R.M.O.,
Morten Harket,
Moebius,
Man Parrish,
The Cramps,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Mojo Men,
The Flesh Eaters,
Colin Newman,
Crispian St. Peters,
Terry Callier,
MDC,
Peter and Kerry,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.