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 Belize and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Shadows of Knight to the disco 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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soulsonic Force 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Man Parrish,
Royal Trux,
The Barracudas,
The Gun Club,
Excepter,
Suburban Knight,
Janne Schatter,
Crime,
A Certain Ratio,
The Tremeloes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bobby Sherman,
Infiniti,
Japan,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Drexciya,
The Black Dice,
Ultimate Spinach,
Au Pairs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Hot Snakes,
Sex Pistols,
The Toasters,
Wasted Youth,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sound Behaviour,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sugar Minott,
The United States of America,
The Leaves,
Roxette,
Pantytec,
One Last Wish,
Sun Ra,
Cymande,
Pantaleimon,
Scratch Acid,
The Music Machine,
Patti Smith,
Flash Fearless,
Can,
Severed Heads,
Colin Newman,
Eric Copeland,
Flipper,
Oblivians,
Maleditus Sound,
Rekid,
Rosa Yemen,
The Velvet Underground,
Brothers Johnson,
Gang of Four,
Connie Case,
The Buckinghams,
Lindisfarne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Harpers Bizarre,
Inner City,
Warren Ellis,
The Residents,
The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans.
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.