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 Romania and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Big Daddy Kane to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brand Nubian,
Sun Ra,
John Coltrane,
Supertramp,
Arab on Radar,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Skaos,
Quantec,
Kurtis Blow,
Scrapy,
Jerry's Kids,
Duran Duran,
Ultravox,
Mars,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bluetip,
Soul II Soul,
Donny Hathaway,
LL Cool J,
La Düsseldorf,
Joe Smooth,
Gregory Isaacs,
Black Bananas,
Fad Gadget,
Livin' Joy,
Jacob Miller,
Ludus,
D'Angelo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Maurizio,
The Blues Magoos,
The Durutti Column,
China Crisis,
Pussy Galore,
Talk Talk,
Monolake,
Tim Buckley,
Alphaville,
Crispian St. Peters,
Warren Ellis,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bizarre Inc.,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Busters,
Janne Schatter,
The Modern Lovers,
Nico,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bootsy Collins,
Black Sheep,
Stereo Dub,
These Immortal Souls,
Pylon,
Jacques Brel,
Grauzone,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bobby Womack,
Rakim,
the Germs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
the Fania All-Stars,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.