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 Vietnam and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 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 Derrick Morgan to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy Collins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
Soft Cell,
Warren Ellis,
Electric Prunes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wings,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Y Pants,
Fad Gadget,
Nick Fraelich,
Rod Modell,
Barry Ungar,
Pere Ubu,
Roxette,
Parry Music,
Crooked Eye,
The Move,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Buzzcocks,
X-101,
The Victims,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
David Axelrod,
Scott Walker,
Pylon,
Underground Resistance,
Mandrill,
Jawbox,
Smog,
Skriet,
Camberwell Now,
Aswad,
Kurtis Blow,
Barclay James Harvest,
H. Thieme,
John Coltrane,
Rotary Connection,
48th St. Collective,
Al Stewart,
Nico,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Darondo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Andrew Hill,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Camouflage,
Nik Kershaw,
Joensuu 1685,
It's A Beautiful Day,
10cc,
Blossom Toes,
MDC,
Clear Light,
The Vogues,
Rekid,
DJ Style,
Tim Buckley,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mars,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.