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 Czech Republic and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 Inner City to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
These Immortal Souls,
Harry Pussy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Yazoo,
This Heat,
Dennis Brown,
Intrusion,
Clear Light,
Stereo Dub,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tommy Roe,
Mark Hollis,
Joey Negro,
Cybotron,
The Selecter,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Blues Magoos,
the Normal,
The Fall,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ultra Naté,
Swell Maps,
Kayak,
Ultravox,
Dawn Penn,
Suburban Knight,
T. Rex,
Crispy Ambulance,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pantytec,
Fat Boys,
U.S. Maple,
Quadrant,
Andrew Hill,
Todd Rundgren,
The Gap Band,
Rakim,
Gang of Four,
Sällskapet,
Wally Richardson,
X-102,
Gang Green,
The Durutti Column,
Second Layer,
Jacques Brel,
Maurizio,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
10cc,
The Moleskins,
Rosa Yemen,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ralphi Rosario,
The J.B.'s,
Y Pants,
Magma,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kaleidoscope,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pussy Galore,
The Star Department,
The Divine Comedy,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.