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 Paraguay and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 marimba 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 Ronan to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
OOIOO,
Eve St. Jones,
The Remains,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Grey Daturas,
David McCallum,
Symarip,
Shuggie Otis,
The Invisible,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Radio Birdman,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pantaleimon,
Mo-Dettes,
Oneida,
Nas,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Magma,
Unwound,
The Blues Magoos,
Roxy Music,
The Beau Brummels,
Darondo,
Curtis Mayfield,
Absolute Body Control,
Moby Grape,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Smoke,
Sixth Finger,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Susan Cadogan,
Surgeon,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bronski Beat,
Bang On A Can,
Kool Moe Dee,
Accadde A,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bauhaus,
Con Funk Shun,
Donald Byrd,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Simply Red,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
cv313,
Tomorrow,
Flash Fearless,
New Age Steppers,
Thompson Twins,
Tommy Roe,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Joensuu 1685,
the Slits,
Tres Demented,
The Dead C,
Neil Young,
Mark Hollis,
Wire,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.