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 Denmark and from Lille.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Association to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Harry Pussy,
The Busters,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gang Starr,
Duran Duran,
OOIOO,
The Music Machine,
Kerrie Biddell,
Slave,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Yusef Lateef,
Bobby Womack,
Hoover,
Monolake,
the Germs,
Crooked Eye,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Fatback Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lightning Bolt,
Babytalk,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Angels of Light,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Boz Scaggs,
Rosa Yemen,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
cv313,
Pussy Galore,
Anthony Braxton,
Terry Callier,
Scan 7,
Graham Central Station,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kevin Saunderson,
Donny Hathaway,
The Standells,
This Heat,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Byron Stingily,
Hardrive,
Andrew Hill,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
CMW,
The Smoke,
The Remains,
Harpers Bizarre,
Maurizio,
Ultra Naté,
Dual Sessions,
Chrome,
MDC,
The Blues Magoos,
Shuggie Otis,
Brass Construction,
Country Teasers,
Dark Day,
Robert Hood,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.