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 Luxembourg and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Holger Czukay 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 Saints to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and a chamberlin 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 chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Bootsy Collins,
the Normal,
The Pretty Things,
June of 44,
the Swans,
La Düsseldorf,
The Martian,
Deadbeat,
Dennis Brown,
Guru Guru,
Girls At Our Best!,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Standells,
Rosa Yemen,
Fluxion,
Judy Mowatt,
10cc,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sam Rivers,
Nick Fraelich,
Funky Four + One,
Kenny Larkin,
Cluster,
Massinfluence,
Trumans Water,
Main Source,
Amon Düül,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Aloha Tigers,
The Monochrome Set,
Wire,
EPMD,
Toni Rubio,
Henry Cow,
kango's stein massive,
The Trojans,
New York Dolls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bad Manners,
Urselle,
Delon & Dalcan,
Graham Central Station,
The Monks,
Piero Umiliani,
Pierre Henry,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ultravox,
Faraquet,
Public Enemy,
John Lydon,
Liliput,
Eli Mardock,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bill Near,
Peter & Gordon,
Babytalk,
Joe Smooth,
Boredoms,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.