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 Jamaica and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator 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 Hoover to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry 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 rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warren Ellis,
Monks,
The Names,
Fugazi,
Ohio Players,
Amazonics,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Loose Ends,
Traffic Nightmare,
Yaz,
Inner City,
Hot Snakes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Monochrome Set,
Derrick Morgan,
Piero Umiliani,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kerri Chandler,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Wolf Eyes,
The Cramps,
Ten City,
The Real Kids,
The J.B.'s,
The Searchers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Adolescents,
Eve St. Jones,
Dark Day,
The Dirtbombs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
a-ha,
Joy Division,
Severed Heads,
D'Angelo,
Scrapy,
Brothers Johnson,
Jeff Lynne,
Lungfish,
Rekid,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Soft Machine,
Heaven 17,
Frankie Knuckles,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Happenings,
Absolute Body Control,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lyres,
Robert Görl,
The Dave Clark Five,
Marvin Gaye,
Joe Smooth,
Q65,
Parry Music,
Model 500,
Unwound,
New Order,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Knickerbockers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.