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 United States and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 theremin 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 Lightning Bolt to the jazz 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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a L. Decosne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ludus,
Rites of Spring,
the Slits,
The Victims,
Danielle Patucci,
Khruangbin,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Porter Ricks,
The Gories,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Offenders,
Fluxion,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rod Modell,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ultimate Spinach,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
H. Thieme,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Zapp,
Malaria!,
Slick Rick,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Human League,
Sällskapet,
Skarface,
Grey Daturas,
Alton Ellis,
Siglo XX,
The Move,
Gang Starr,
Davy DMX,
Black Pus,
Essential Logic,
The Sonics,
Ultra Naté,
Jacques Brel,
Fad Gadget,
Ronan,
Bang On A Can,
The Divine Comedy,
Dawn Penn,
Little Man,
Andrew Hill,
Aswad,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
World's Most,
Adolescents,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Althea and Donna,
Brothers Johnson,
Bluetip,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Soulsonic Force,
Brass Construction,
June of 44,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Guru Guru,
Visage,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.