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 Zimbabwe and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Nile Rodgers 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 The Gap Band to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Angry Samoans,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cymande,
Average White Band,
Gang Starr,
Soul Sonic Force,
Brand Nubian,
Derrick Morgan,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kenny Larkin,
The Dirtbombs,
Joe Finger,
John Coltrane,
Rod Modell,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Gladiators,
The Skatalites,
Slave,
Mission of Burma,
Pussy Galore,
DNA,
John Holt,
Public Enemy,
Wasted Youth,
Magazine,
Section 25,
Delta 5,
Suicide,
Reagan Youth,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobby Womack,
Nas,
The Star Department,
La Düsseldorf,
Prince Buster,
Johnny Clarke,
Piero Umiliani,
Animal Collective,
Jacques Brel,
Sandy B,
CMW,
Letta Mbulu,
The New Christs,
Stereo Dub,
Trumans Water,
World's Most,
The Invisible,
Au Pairs,
The Human League,
Kayak,
Fear,
Soft Cell,
The Electric Prunes,
June of 44,
Erykah Badu,
Basic Channel,
Tres Demented,
Yusef Lateef,
Iggy Pop,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brick,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.