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 Namibia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 mellotron 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 The Fall to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
The Buckinghams,
X-Ray Spex,
Slave,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lungfish,
Pussy Galore,
The Fire Engines,
Prince Buster,
Aswad,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bad Manners,
Johnny Clarke,
Sam Rivers,
This Heat,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Fall,
Brand Nubian,
Pharoah Sanders,
H. Thieme,
The Gap Band,
The Kinks,
Los Fastidios,
New York Dolls,
D'Angelo,
Electric Prunes,
Marmalade,
Dawn Penn,
Fat Boys,
Marcia Griffiths,
DJ Sneak,
Joyce Sims,
Siglo XX,
The Zeros,
Suicide,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ituana,
Cymande,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Audionom,
Eric Copeland,
Charles Mingus,
The Neon Judgement,
Tres Demented,
Ludus,
Wally Richardson,
Depeche Mode,
Erykah Badu,
June Days,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Accadde A,
The Fortunes,
Agitation Free,
Shuggie Otis,
Ornette Coleman,
Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra.
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.