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 Macedonia and from Accra.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the rap 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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a L. Decosne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Symarip,
Aloha Tigers,
Underground Resistance,
Byron Stingily,
Avey Tare,
Bob Dylan,
Roy Ayers,
The Divine Comedy,
Simply Red,
Mo-Dettes,
Gang Starr,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Invisible,
Thompson Twins,
James White and The Blacks,
Pussy Galore,
CMW,
Monolake,
Lou Christie,
Deepchord,
Bobby Womack,
The Mummies,
Eve St. Jones,
Derrick May,
Black Moon,
Dead Boys,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Names,
Pet Shop Boys,
Roxy Music,
Howard Jones,
The Skatalites,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bootsy Collins,
The United States of America,
The Tremeloes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Morten Harket,
Pantaleimon,
The Dave Clark Five,
Yaz,
The Golliwogs,
Negative Approach,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
In Retrospect,
Maleditus Sound,
Altered Images,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Amon Düül II,
The Kinks,
The Blackbyrds,
Althea and Donna,
Gang Green,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Heaven 17,
Gregory Isaacs,
Magazine,
Circle Jerks,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.