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 Kyrgyzstan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jeff Mills to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Roger Hodgson,
Ronnie Foster,
Soulsonic Force,
Rites of Spring,
Moby Grape,
Soft Machine,
Quantec,
Smog,
Make Up,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Prince Buster,
ABC,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scratch Acid,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Buckinghams,
Goldenarms,
MDC,
The Stooges,
K-Klass,
Peter and Kerry,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Angry Samoans,
Black Flag,
Pulsallama,
These Immortal Souls,
The Fortunes,
Alison Limerick,
Inner City,
The Young Rascals,
Crooked Eye,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
D'Angelo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Searchers,
Boz Scaggs,
The Misunderstood,
Popol Vuh,
Eric Copeland,
DJ Style,
Letta Mbulu,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Amazonics,
Derrick Morgan,
Au Pairs,
Byron Stingily,
Urselle,
Outsiders,
Kenny Larkin,
Reagan Youth,
June of 44,
Janne Schatter,
Con Funk Shun,
Kurtis Blow,
Amon Düül,
Rod Modell,
The Angels of Light,
T. Rex,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.