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 Equatorial Guinea and from Stockholm.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Frankie Knuckles to the funk 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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
The Young Rascals,
The Alarm Clocks,
Absolute Body Control,
The Cowsills,
Mr. Review,
Radiopuhelimet,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ponytail,
James Chance & The Contortions,
ABC,
Lightning Bolt,
Chris & Cosey,
Groovy Waters,
David McCallum,
Con Funk Shun,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kevin Saunderson,
Eric Dolphy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sandy B,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Smiths,
AZ,
Arab on Radar,
Tim Buckley,
Peter & Gordon,
Bobby Byrd,
Wasted Youth,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Deepchord,
Roxette,
Arcadia,
The Angels of Light,
Skaos,
Visage,
The Seeds,
Stiv Bators,
Fear,
Curtis Mayfield,
Harpers Bizarre,
Urselle,
Moby Grape,
Aaron Thompson,
Kaleidoscope,
Agitation Free,
Guru Guru,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eli Mardock,
Godley & Creme,
The Moody Blues,
Joensuu 1685,
Max Romeo,
Scan 7,
The United States of America,
Nation of Ulysses,
R.M.O.,
John Holt,
DNA,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.