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 Kyrgyzstan and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 It's A Beautiful Day to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Agent Orange,
Suicide,
Brothers Johnson,
Glenn Branca,
The American Breed,
Intrusion,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Dual Sessions,
Quando Quango,
Inner City,
Soft Cell,
Sugar Minott,
The Raincoats,
Patti Smith,
Dark Day,
Don Cherry,
The Blues Magoos,
The Offenders,
Susan Cadogan,
Brand Nubian,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eddi Front,
Infiniti,
Reagan Youth,
Robert Hood,
Mars,
Prince Buster,
The Cramps,
Alton Ellis,
Clear Light,
Maleditus Sound,
Aaron Thompson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mandrill,
Donald Byrd,
Soul Sonic Force,
Surgeon,
Delon & Dalcan,
Quadrant,
UT,
Jerry's Kids,
Unrelated Segments,
Faust,
In Retrospect,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Barrington Levy,
Q65,
Eurythmics,
The Fire Engines,
Quantec,
Barbara Tucker,
Khruangbin,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scion,
Jacob Miller,
Jeru the Damaja,
Loose Ends,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.