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 Costa Rica and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Rakim to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantytec 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Liliput,
Mars,
Oblivians,
Tom Boy,
Nas,
Inner City,
Soul II Soul,
Boz Scaggs,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bang On A Can,
Mo-Dettes,
Lungfish,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cal Tjader,
Country Teasers,
Todd Terry,
Los Fastidios,
Nils Olav,
Wally Richardson,
The Walker Brothers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Absolute Body Control,
The Moody Blues,
Reagan Youth,
Gong,
The Velvet Underground,
The Alarm Clocks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mission of Burma,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fad Gadget,
Subhumans,
Television Personalities,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Hashim,
Stereo Dub,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Supertramp,
Arab on Radar,
Black Pus,
Joey Negro,
K-Klass,
The Modern Lovers,
The Misunderstood,
Pharoah Sanders,
Little Man,
Matthew Halsall,
Terrestrial Tones,
Robert Hood,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bobby Womack,
Mandrill,
Altered Images,
The Pop Group,
One Last Wish,
Byron Stingily,
DNA,
Deepchord,
The Slits,
Monks,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.