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 Solomon Islands and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb 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 Reagan Youth to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young,
Ken Boothe,
Terrestrial Tones,
KRS-One,
Leonard Cohen,
Cal Tjader,
Sonic Youth,
Godley & Creme,
Q65,
MDC,
Grandmaster Flash,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Moby Grape,
The Star Department,
The Gladiators,
The New Christs,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nils Olav,
The Gun Club,
Byron Stingily,
Buzzcocks,
Rekid,
Terry Callier,
E-Dancer,
Magazine,
T.S.O.L.,
Sam Rivers,
Massinfluence,
Duran Duran,
Second Layer,
La Düsseldorf,
Cheater Slicks,
Mark Hollis,
The Beau Brummels,
Ossler,
The Kinks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kenny Larkin,
Pierre Henry,
Graham Central Station,
Niagra,
Cymande,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Young Marble Giants,
Gastr Del Sol,
Robert Wyatt,
Sparks,
Donny Hathaway,
Eden Ahbez,
the Human League,
the Soft Cell,
Mantronix,
MC5,
June Days,
The Count Five,
John Coltrane,
Marmalade,
The Dead C,
Dave Gahan,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.