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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sandy B to the grime 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 The Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Newcleus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
F. McDonald,
Joensuu 1685,
The United States of America,
Main Source,
Scan 7,
Icehouse,
Terry Callier,
Nils Olav,
Shoche,
Subhumans,
The Sound,
Barry Ungar,
Mr. Review,
Pylon,
Pantaleimon,
Bad Manners,
Angry Samoans,
FM Einheit,
The Martian,
Hot Snakes,
The New Christs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Morten Harket,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Robert Görl,
Peter and Kerry,
Letta Mbulu,
Robert Wyatt,
Albert Ayler,
Tommy Roe,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Black Dice,
The Buckinghams,
The Mojo Men,
Rosa Yemen,
John Lydon,
Jerry's Kids,
Radio Birdman,
X-101,
Stiv Bators,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Rufus Thomas,
The Divine Comedy,
Bobby Womack,
Jawbox,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Don Cherry,
Saccharine Trust,
Young Marble Giants,
Lee Hazlewood,
Organ,
Barrington Levy,
Lou Christie,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Star Department,
Grandmaster Flash,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.