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 Afghanistan and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ 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 Funky Four + One to the punk 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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Jawbox,
John Holt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ultra Naté,
The Angels of Light,
Gil Scott Heron,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Flesh Eaters,
This Heat,
Tres Demented,
The Modern Lovers,
Anthony Braxton,
Scion,
Clear Light,
Graham Central Station,
Bauhaus,
Desert Stars,
Godley & Creme,
Lalann,
Drexciya,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kas Product,
The Associates,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Suicide,
Loose Ends,
Underground Resistance,
The Durutti Column,
Sparks,
E-Dancer,
Unrelated Segments,
Sound Behaviour,
Ornette Coleman,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Black Dice,
Malaria!,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Red Krayola,
Nas,
Oblivians,
Babytalk,
Tomorrow,
Derrick May,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Q and Not U,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Peter and Kerry,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marc Almond,
The Gladiators,
Yaz,
Niagra,
Animal Collective,
Cheater Slicks,
Das Ding,
Massinfluence,
The Cure,
F. McDonald,
Surgeon,
Can,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.