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 Micronesia 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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All Oblivians tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Fire Engines,
Jandek,
Intrusion,
The Busters,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Brothers Johnson,
Massinfluence,
Outsiders,
The Fall,
Bobby Womack,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Barracudas,
Mars,
Underground Resistance,
Peter & Gordon,
Sixth Finger,
Radio Birdman,
Henry Cow,
Radiohead,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Last Poets,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-Ray Spex,
The Durutti Column,
The Remains,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joensuu 1685,
Althea and Donna,
Moss Icon,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Ken Boothe,
The Slackers,
Oblivians,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
AZ,
The Misunderstood,
JFA,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Normal,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Moby Grape,
Minnie Riperton,
Dave Gahan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The American Breed,
Japan,
Circle Jerks,
New Age Steppers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ornette Coleman,
Hardrive,
Sällskapet,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
CMW,
Yazoo,
Alphaville,
Nico,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.