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 Somalia and from Hong Kong.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tehran.
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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every CMW record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a In Retrospect record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Hashim,
Bill Near,
Crash Course in Science,
Ice-T,
Camouflage,
John Foxx,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sällskapet,
The Selecter,
Tim Buckley,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mad Mike,
The Monks,
The Tremeloes,
Monks,
Vainqueur,
Girls At Our Best!,
Animal Collective,
The Vogues,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Surgeon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lindisfarne,
Supertramp,
Grey Daturas,
Funky Four + One,
Tears for Fears,
Q and Not U,
JFA,
The Dirtbombs,
Bush Tetras,
The Dead C,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Malaria!,
Rufus Thomas,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Arthur Verocai,
Toni Rubio,
Unwound,
Lightning Bolt,
Public Image Ltd.,
Drexciya,
ABC,
Rapeman,
Jimmy McGriff,
These Immortal Souls,
The Neon Judgement,
Deepchord,
Davy DMX,
Michelle Simonal,
Public Enemy,
The Last Poets,
The Music Machine,
Siglo XX,
Icehouse,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wasted Youth,
Suicide,
Joe Finger,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.