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 Cyprus and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mr. Review to the techno 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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
OOIOO,
Thee Headcoats,
Q and Not U,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lalo Schifrin,
World's Most,
Rhythm & Sound,
Traffic Nightmare,
Quadrant,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Knickerbockers,
Idris Muhammad,
The Birthday Party,
Intrusion,
Crime,
Minor Threat,
Masters at Work,
Easy Going,
Zapp,
The Doors,
Marvin Gaye,
The Techniques,
T. Rex,
Carl Craig,
James White and The Blacks,
Second Layer,
The Pop Group,
Fela Kuti,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wolf Eyes,
Bob Dylan,
Nico,
Guru Guru,
Con Funk Shun,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Skatalites,
Oblivians,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Outsiders,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tom Boy,
Moby Grape,
Deakin,
Byron Stingily,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Davy DMX,
the Bar-Kays,
Sam Rivers,
Joe Smooth,
The Victims,
Gil Scott Heron,
Half Japanese,
Brand Nubian,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bill Wells,
Heaven 17,
Blake Baxter,
Gang Green,
Graham Central Station,
Joe Finger,
PIL,
Eric B and Rakim,
Chrome,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.