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 Swaziland and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Juan Atkins 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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
The Kinks,
Black Bananas,
Mr. Review,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Blues Magoos,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gang of Four,
Glenn Branca,
Soulsonic Force,
Mandrill,
Graham Central Station,
Con Funk Shun,
Brothers Johnson,
Essential Logic,
Pharoah Sanders,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Moody Blues,
The Mojo Men,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Blackbyrds,
Livin' Joy,
Bill Wells,
Moby Grape,
L. Decosne,
Judy Mowatt,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bush Tetras,
Moss Icon,
Shoche,
The Smoke,
John Foxx,
Sun Ra,
The Offenders,
Adolescents,
Sixth Finger,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Yazoo,
Minny Pops,
Harmonia,
Terrestrial Tones,
Amon Düül,
Agent Orange,
Tres Demented,
The Velvet Underground,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Slick Rick,
The Seeds,
Eric Copeland,
Agitation Free,
The United States of America,
Desert Stars,
Cybotron,
The Index,
Quando Quango,
The American Breed,
Hasil Adkins,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Au Pairs,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.