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 Bolivia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pharoah Sanders to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Das Ding,
Symarip,
Jeff Lynne,
Morten Harket,
Carl Craig,
Slick Rick,
The Blackbyrds,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Smog,
Godley & Creme,
The Five Americans,
the Sonics,
B.T. Express,
Deadbeat,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Fugs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deakin,
The Young Rascals,
the Fania All-Stars,
Agitation Free,
Essential Logic,
Grey Daturas,
Minor Threat,
Sällskapet,
Arthur Verocai,
The Invisible,
Oneida,
Inner City,
Yazoo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lee Hazlewood,
Negative Approach,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Techniques,
The Mojo Men,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Altered Images,
F. McDonald,
The Busters,
MC5,
The Leaves,
Albert Ayler,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cameo,
Cybotron,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Malaria!,
The Tremeloes,
Surgeon,
Technova,
Spoonie Gee,
KRS-One,
Susan Cadogan,
Bang On A Can,
Warsaw,
Rod Modell,
The Standells,
Dave Gahan,
The Count Five,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.