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 Poland and from Taipei.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sexual Harrassment to the techno 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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
Arab on Radar,
The Modern Lovers,
Amon Düül,
Gang Green,
June Days,
Bobby Womack,
R.M.O.,
Harmonia,
Gil Scott Heron,
The United States of America,
Ronnie Foster,
Electric Prunes,
Cymande,
X-101,
The Barracudas,
Sällskapet,
Mr. Review,
Half Japanese,
Nils Olav,
Gregory Isaacs,
Althea and Donna,
K-Klass,
Boz Scaggs,
Tommy Roe,
The Blues Magoos,
Mary Jane Girls,
Warsaw,
Sex Pistols,
The J.B.'s,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ornette Coleman,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Residents,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Walker Brothers,
Das Ding,
These Immortal Souls,
Sonic Youth,
Funkadelic,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Kayak,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Depeche Mode,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Black Bananas,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fortunes,
Wasted Youth,
Moss Icon,
Livin' Joy,
Malaria!,
Soft Cell,
Sam Rivers,
Flipper,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Vogues,
T. Rex,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.