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 Vanuatu and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 808 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 The Last Poets to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Goldenarms,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Hot Snakes,
The Gladiators,
Kas Product,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sällskapet,
Yusef Lateef,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
David Bowie,
Kerrie Biddell,
These Immortal Souls,
Robert Görl,
Massinfluence,
Rosa Yemen,
MC5,
The Trojans,
Gabor Szabo,
Black Sheep,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Outsiders,
Hashim,
KRS-One,
Avey Tare,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
X-Ray Spex,
D'Angelo,
Thee Headcoats,
Davy DMX,
The Move,
the Swans,
Wolf Eyes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
June of 44,
Warren Ellis,
Fear,
Charles Mingus,
Throbbing Gristle,
The New Christs,
Cameo,
Kurtis Blow,
The Walker Brothers,
Tres Demented,
The Dead C,
Dual Sessions,
Camouflage,
Wasted Youth,
Sister Nancy,
Piero Umiliani,
Drexciya,
10cc,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Con Funk Shun,
Guru Guru,
Kool Moe Dee,
The American Breed,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ohio Players,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.