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 Lithuania and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Glasgow.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the theremin 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 Dual Sessions to the grime 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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect 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 '70s 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 Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Angry Samoans,
Sixth Finger,
Marine Girls,
The Knickerbockers,
Magma,
The Cure,
These Immortal Souls,
Public Enemy,
Cluster,
Tim Buckley,
Lee Hazlewood,
Second Layer,
The Durutti Column,
Fat Boys,
Eddi Front,
Mad Mike,
The Victims,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Thee Headcoats,
Y Pants,
F. McDonald,
Brick,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Five Americans,
Sight & Sound,
The Fall,
Drexciya,
The Pop Group,
Tubeway Army,
the Bar-Kays,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mantronix,
Marshall Jefferson,
Country Teasers,
Deakin,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Derrick Morgan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wally Richardson,
Joyce Sims,
The Moody Blues,
T. Rex,
Loose Ends,
Malaria!,
Don Cherry,
The Invisible,
The Mojo Men,
Smog,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Andrew Hill,
Bob Dylan,
The Cramps,
Donald Byrd,
Jawbox,
Pole,
Max Romeo,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Human League,
Maleditus Sound,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.