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 Saudi Arabia and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Laurel Aitken to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
Boz Scaggs,
Monks,
These Immortal Souls,
The Durutti Column,
Barbara Tucker,
Brand Nubian,
New York Dolls,
The Blackbyrds,
Kerri Chandler,
The Residents,
Oneida,
Stereo Dub,
David Axelrod,
Marine Girls,
Roger Hodgson,
U.S. Maple,
Bad Manners,
E-Dancer,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lightning Bolt,
Traffic Nightmare,
Echospace,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Johnny Osbourne,
Cecil Taylor,
The Misunderstood,
The Grass Roots,
Warsaw,
The Leaves,
The Detroit Cobras,
Excepter,
The Busters,
Alphaville,
Procol Harum,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Oblivians,
Mark Hollis,
Grey Daturas,
Patti Smith,
Sight & Sound,
June Days,
Isaac Hayes,
The Toasters,
Blake Baxter,
The Count Five,
Rotary Connection,
James White and The Blacks,
The Cure,
Faust,
Suicide,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Moleskins,
Henry Cow,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ralphi Rosario,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hashim,
Scan 7,
Von Mondo,
John Holt,
Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance.
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.