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 Norway and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Radio Birdman to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All MDC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marine Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
UT,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Durutti Column,
Stetsasonic,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Visage,
Barrington Levy,
Eurythmics,
Gregory Isaacs,
ABBA,
Thompson Twins,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Hasil Adkins,
The Grass Roots,
Brothers Johnson,
Can,
Wally Richardson,
Crooked Eye,
The Knickerbockers,
Prince Buster,
Don Cherry,
Subhumans,
Kaleidoscope,
Scion,
Fad Gadget,
The Fuzztones,
The Star Department,
Altered Images,
Gong,
Minny Pops,
Aswad,
Monks,
Marmalade,
The Invisible,
Scrapy,
Lightning Bolt,
The Golliwogs,
Ice-T,
The Happenings,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Sonics,
Surgeon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Reagan Youth,
Amazonics,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bootsy Collins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mr. Review,
Wings,
Porter Ricks,
Supertramp,
Bob Dylan,
Young Marble Giants,
Sam Rivers,
Bobby Byrd,
Wolf Eyes,
The American Breed,
John Holt,
Underground Resistance,
Drexciya,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.