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 Sweden and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Donny Hathaway to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sandy B,
The Black Dice,
Pylon,
Ronnie Foster,
Jacob Miller,
Connie Case,
MDC,
Camberwell Now,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pulsallama,
Marmalade,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rufus Thomas,
Index,
D'Angelo,
Loose Ends,
Derrick Morgan,
Jimmy McGriff,
Janne Schatter,
the Slits,
the Human League,
Bobby Sherman,
Ohio Players,
Shoche,
Black Bananas,
Robert Görl,
Vainqueur,
The Toasters,
Severed Heads,
Khruangbin,
Jawbox,
Pere Ubu,
Tears for Fears,
Bizarre Inc.,
Negative Approach,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sun City Girls,
Silicon Teens,
Q and Not U,
Todd Rundgren,
The Remains,
Graham Central Station,
The Gap Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fela Kuti,
Rhythm & Sound,
Masters at Work,
Babytalk,
The Skatalites,
Con Funk Shun,
Max Romeo,
Andrew Hill,
Black Sheep,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
8 Eyed Spy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Stetsasonic,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.