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 Spain and from Spokane.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Schoolly D to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Names 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Bobby Byrd,
Rosa Yemen,
Bauhaus,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pantytec,
Mantronix,
Yusef Lateef,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kerri Chandler,
Gang Green,
Tears for Fears,
Gang Starr,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
David Axelrod,
Laurel Aitken,
Jacques Brel,
Echospace,
Underground Resistance,
Charles Mingus,
Sound Behaviour,
Silicon Teens,
Average White Band,
Simply Red,
Fat Boys,
The Litter,
Lalann,
Joy Division,
Kool Moe Dee,
These Immortal Souls,
EPMD,
Sex Pistols,
Dead Boys,
Angry Samoans,
Aswad,
Drive Like Jehu,
PIL,
Black Pus,
Funkadelic,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
David Bowie,
The Raincoats,
Banda Bassotti,
Roy Ayers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Fugazi,
Robert Görl,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Flesh Eaters,
Suburban Knight,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Yazoo,
B.T. Express,
Big Daddy Kane,
Thee Headcoats,
Mark Hollis,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sun City Girls,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.