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 Qatar and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Cymande to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Livin' Joy,
Second Layer,
Kerri Chandler,
Bizarre Inc.,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Scratch Acid,
Ice-T,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Terrestrial Tones,
Boogie Down Productions,
Half Japanese,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Theoretical Girls,
Blossom Toes,
Main Source,
DNA,
AZ,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Black Pus,
Mandrill,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Normal,
The Beau Brummels,
Eddi Front,
The Durutti Column,
Scion,
Stetsasonic,
Roger Hodgson,
Letta Mbulu,
Nik Kershaw,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Banda Bassotti,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Man Parrish,
John Holt,
Barclay James Harvest,
Don Cherry,
The Divine Comedy,
The Moody Blues,
La Düsseldorf,
The Electric Prunes,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Los Fastidios,
New Order,
The Smoke,
Man Eating Sloth,
Deadbeat,
Aural Exciters,
Parry Music,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Vladislav Delay,
London Community Gospel Choir,
David McCallum,
a-ha,
Radio Birdman,
Supertramp,
X-101,
Terry Callier,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.