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 Colombia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 harpsichord 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 The Flesh Eaters 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 Delta 5. All the underground hits.
All Kas Product tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
David Bowie,
Trumans Water,
Y Pants,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lucky Dragons,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Hardrive,
Theoretical Girls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Names,
The Cosmic Jokers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Metal Thangz,
Eurythmics,
Funkadelic,
Ohio Players,
Pussy Galore,
Malaria!,
Oblivians,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Doors,
The Golliwogs,
Whodini,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lyres,
Archie Shepp,
Royal Trux,
Electric Prunes,
Anthony Braxton,
Monks,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Bobby Byrd,
Jesper Dahlback,
Goldenarms,
Ronan,
Bobby Womack,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Stockholm Monsters,
Zero Boys,
Gang Starr,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Donny Hathaway,
Model 500,
Black Pus,
Lou Christie,
Jawbox,
Motorama,
Drexciya,
Mandrill,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Toasters,
Fela Kuti,
Connie Case,
Black Flag,
Nick Fraelich,
James White and The Blacks,
The Slackers,
Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken.
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.