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 Gambia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 organ 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 T.S.O.L. to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Stereo Dub tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vainqueur record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Max Romeo,
Mo-Dettes,
Josef K,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Modern Lovers,
Donald Byrd,
the Human League,
La Düsseldorf,
Henry Cow,
Connie Case,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eli Mardock,
B.T. Express,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Supertramp,
Can,
Tim Buckley,
The Misunderstood,
Sun Ra,
Terry Callier,
Fela Kuti,
Visage,
Das Ding,
DNA,
Camouflage,
The Neon Judgement,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pulsallama,
Idris Muhammad,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Curtis Mayfield,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lou Christie,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fatback Band,
Yusef Lateef,
Lightning Bolt,
The Residents,
Fugazi,
Au Pairs,
Saccharine Trust,
Alton Ellis,
Echospace,
The Leaves,
Robert Wyatt,
Gang Gang Dance,
Arcadia,
Jacob Miller,
New Order,
Sällskapet,
Scott Walker,
Mandrill,
Ludus,
Con Funk Shun,
Electric Prunes,
Theoretical Girls,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.