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 Nepal and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 organ 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 Man Eating Sloth to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Gang Gang Dance,
The New Christs,
Outsiders,
Davy DMX,
Chris Corsano,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Von Mondo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bad Manners,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Neu!,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Piero Umiliani,
Mars,
Lalo Schifrin,
Arthur Verocai,
cv313,
Juan Atkins,
Janne Schatter,
Scientists,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Slick Rick,
Barry Ungar,
The United States of America,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Boredoms,
Harry Pussy,
Soul II Soul,
Ossler,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rosa Yemen,
Darondo,
Maleditus Sound,
David Axelrod,
Lou Reed,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Flamin' Groovies,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ituana,
Sparks,
Spandau Ballet,
Roger Hodgson,
Arcadia,
Matthew Bourne,
the Soft Cell,
Pulsallama,
Audionom,
Masters at Work,
Kenny Larkin,
The Fire Engines,
Terrestrial Tones,
Zero Boys,
Qualms,
Icehouse,
The Velvet Underground,
The Walker Brothers,
The Five Americans,
Section 25,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.