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 Palau and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ronnie Foster to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maleditus Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Eric Copeland,
Rakim,
Tom Boy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jacob Miller,
Mad Mike,
Rufus Thomas,
Piero Umiliani,
Radio Birdman,
Susan Cadogan,
Kas Product,
Quadrant,
Boogie Down Productions,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Neon Judgement,
Bobby Womack,
Cybotron,
The Blues Magoos,
T.S.O.L.,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Whodini,
Rapeman,
Zero Boys,
The Cowsills,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mr. Review,
Black Pus,
The Move,
Flamin' Groovies,
kango's stein massive,
Clear Light,
Josef K,
Agent Orange,
The Kinks,
Pantytec,
Black Sheep,
Can,
T. Rex,
John Foxx,
The Blackbyrds,
DJ Style,
Nik Kershaw,
Newcleus,
Stiv Bators,
Shoche,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Roxette,
Khruangbin,
Dennis Brown,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Echospace,
The Modern Lovers,
Interpol,
Ronan,
Morten Harket,
Thompson Twins,
Albert Ayler,
Rites of Spring,
Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey.
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.