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 Mauritania and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 clarinet 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 Martian to the disco 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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Massinfluence tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul Sonic Force,
Blossom Toes,
Khruangbin,
Niagra,
Barry Ungar,
The Real Kids,
Underground Resistance,
Mary Jane Girls,
Smog,
The Moody Blues,
Judy Mowatt,
Darondo,
Jacob Miller,
Nirvana,
Sister Nancy,
Sam Rivers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Fire Engines,
Malaria!,
Zapp,
Jawbox,
Gichy Dan,
The Offenders,
Radio Birdman,
The Human League,
Brothers Johnson,
John Foxx,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Marvin Gaye,
The Black Dice,
Sandy B,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Searchers,
Cheater Slicks,
Roxette,
David Bowie,
Lightning Bolt,
the Normal,
Sparks,
Eric Copeland,
Joensuu 1685,
Spoonie Gee,
Gang of Four,
Joy Division,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
kango's stein massive,
Harry Pussy,
Sixth Finger,
Slick Rick,
Toni Rubio,
Ken Boothe,
Sun City Girls,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Gun Club,
Roy Ayers,
X-102,
Flipper,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Wally Richardson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Swans,
Laurel Aitken,
Barrington Levy,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.