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 Zambia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Johannesburg.
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 marimba 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 Goldenarms to the dance 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 Kas Product. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
Bobby Hutcherson,
F. McDonald,
The Beau Brummels,
Skriet,
Outsiders,
David McCallum,
Spandau Ballet,
Scientists,
Nik Kershaw,
Letta Mbulu,
Bill Wells,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Aloha Tigers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Max Romeo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Byron Stingily,
The Happenings,
Simply Red,
Suburban Knight,
Massinfluence,
Funkadelic,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Qualms,
The United States of America,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pierre Henry,
Josef K,
Shuggie Otis,
Soft Cell,
The Dirtbombs,
Desert Stars,
Davy DMX,
The Star Department,
Adolescents,
Urselle,
The Trojans,
Isaac Hayes,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Delon & Dalcan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Public Enemy,
The Mojo Men,
Maurizio,
Visage,
Neil Young,
Jeff Lynne,
Danielle Patucci,
Young Marble Giants,
Harpers Bizarre,
B.T. Express,
Buzzcocks,
Dave Gahan,
Reuben Wilson,
Brothers Johnson,
X-Ray Spex,
John Lydon,
the Association,
Ten City,
Trumans Water,
The Seeds,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.