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 Costa Rica and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 808 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 Maleditus Sound to the electroclash 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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Ronan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Gang of Four,
New Age Steppers,
The Saints,
Eve St. Jones,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Toasters,
Graham Central Station,
The Move,
Brand Nubian,
Bauhaus,
the Normal,
Ohio Players,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Beau Brummels,
Nils Olav,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Intrusion,
Byron Stingily,
Fat Boys,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crooked Eye,
Kevin Saunderson,
X-Ray Spex,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sex Pistols,
Arthur Verocai,
Theoretical Girls,
T.S.O.L.,
Boredoms,
Peter and Kerry,
Soft Machine,
the Bar-Kays,
Cymande,
Sexual Harrassment,
Schoolly D,
Scan 7,
Soft Cell,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pole,
Lou Reed,
The Busters,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Pus,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Clear Light,
The Fugs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eden Ahbez,
JFA,
Urselle,
the Human League,
David Bowie,
Q65,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bill Near,
EPMD,
The Doors,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.