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 Tajikistan and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Captain Beefheart 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 DJ Style to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
Pierre Henry,
The Offenders,
Fad Gadget,
The Cowsills,
Joey Negro,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Masters at Work,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Josef K,
Cheater Slicks,
Soulsonic Force,
Bizarre Inc.,
Royal Trux,
These Immortal Souls,
Quadrant,
Ralphi Rosario,
Excepter,
Swans,
The Mojo Men,
Mad Mike,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Star Department,
The Moody Blues,
cv313,
Ronnie Foster,
Angry Samoans,
Jacques Brel,
Symarip,
The Mummies,
Slick Rick,
Clear Light,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Dead C,
Simply Red,
Archie Shepp,
Gang Green,
Bobby Womack,
Roxy Music,
Fear,
Moss Icon,
the Sonics,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ornette Coleman,
The Music Machine,
Au Pairs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roxette,
Pulsallama,
Barry Ungar,
Eurythmics,
Derrick May,
Iggy Pop,
June of 44,
Scan 7,
Amon Düül II,
Loose Ends,
Brothers Johnson,
Isaac Hayes,
Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell.
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.