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 Sierra Leone and from Toronto.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rites of Spring to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
Derrick May,
Section 25,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jeru the Damaja,
B.T. Express,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Bootsy Collins,
Sixth Finger,
Sun City Girls,
Cymande,
The Knickerbockers,
The Dead C,
Yazoo,
Qualms,
The Black Dice,
Essential Logic,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jeff Lynne,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Q65,
X-Ray Spex,
E-Dancer,
Crispian St. Peters,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gil Scott Heron,
DNA,
The Alarm Clocks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Mojo Men,
Rapeman,
Excepter,
the Slits,
New Age Steppers,
La Düsseldorf,
Minnie Riperton,
The Fire Engines,
Loose Ends,
Chris & Cosey,
Hoover,
Skaos,
Infiniti,
Inner City,
Mo-Dettes,
Magma,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Connie Case,
DJ Style,
Buzzcocks,
Country Teasers,
The Cowsills,
Kerrie Biddell,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Archie Shepp,
Pere Ubu,
Roxy Music,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gang Green,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Boogie Down Productions,
Audionom,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.