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 Suriname and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sonics to the jazz 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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Laurel Aitken,
Can,
JFA,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
X-101,
Radiohead,
The Doors,
The Gun Club,
Eric B and Rakim,
Suicide,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kenny Larkin,
Y Pants,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scratch Acid,
MDC,
Suburban Knight,
Moss Icon,
Blossom Toes,
Gichy Dan,
Prince Buster,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mr. Review,
The Toasters,
The Gories,
Babytalk,
Sandy B,
Jacques Brel,
Sun Ra,
Girls At Our Best!,
Dennis Brown,
Arab on Radar,
Surgeon,
Mad Mike,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Outsiders,
Eve St. Jones,
B.T. Express,
T. Rex,
The Mojo Men,
The Fire Engines,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pole,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Busters,
Anthony Braxton,
Masters at Work,
Mars,
Johnny Clarke,
The United States of America,
Mo-Dettes,
Pantytec,
the Human League,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.