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 Somalia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 The Real Kids to the crunk 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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Barclay James Harvest,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Arcadia,
Bob Dylan,
Public Enemy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Laurel Aitken,
Skarface,
the Soft Cell,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pulsallama,
R.M.O.,
The Wake,
Michelle Simonal,
Visage,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Sonics,
Unrelated Segments,
Traffic Nightmare,
Andrew Hill,
Donald Byrd,
The Motions,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Pretty Things,
Symarip,
Maurizio,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ultra Naté,
D'Angelo,
The Associates,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Stereo Dub,
The Vogues,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Essential Logic,
Monks,
The Dead C,
Motorama,
Rosa Yemen,
Tubeway Army,
Jerry's Kids,
Todd Terry,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
10cc,
Intrusion,
The Grass Roots,
The Happenings,
the Slits,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Gladiators,
Nas,
Fad Gadget,
DNA,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Peter & Gordon,
Young Marble Giants,
Sugar Minott,
JFA,
F. McDonald,
Tom Boy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gang Starr,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.