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 Turkey and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 The Knickerbockers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All the Normal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Martian,
Boredoms,
The Gladiators,
Procol Harum,
Brothers Johnson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Porter Ricks,
Peter and Kerry,
Underground Resistance,
Davy DMX,
EPMD,
Minny Pops,
Los Fastidios,
Depeche Mode,
The Move,
Crooked Eye,
Al Stewart,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Monks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Y Pants,
Todd Rundgren,
Hardrive,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Doors,
The Last Poets,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Bar-Kays,
Kayak,
T.S.O.L.,
T. Rex,
DNA,
Angry Samoans,
The Neon Judgement,
Bill Near,
Avey Tare,
Sex Pistols,
X-Ray Spex,
Cameo,
The Offenders,
The Human League,
Talk Talk,
John Foxx,
OOIOO,
X-102,
These Immortal Souls,
Stetsasonic,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Wolf Eyes,
John Lydon,
Pantaleimon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Slits,
Make Up,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Juan Atkins,
Graham Central Station,
New Age Steppers,
Reagan Youth,
Mission of Burma,
Grey Daturas,
Dawn Penn,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.