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 Ivory Coast and from Manila.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Radio Birdman to the grunge 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 Jandek. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
B.T. Express,
Stockholm Monsters,
Fugazi,
The Searchers,
Monolake,
Minutemen,
Faust,
LL Cool J,
The Saints,
Au Pairs,
Moss Icon,
Pierre Henry,
Make Up,
a-ha,
Flamin' Groovies,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Eve St. Jones,
Crooked Eye,
Angry Samoans,
Chris & Cosey,
Maurizio,
Cymande,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
JFA,
T.S.O.L.,
This Heat,
Grey Daturas,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Intrusion,
Max Romeo,
The Angels of Light,
China Crisis,
The Smiths,
Alice Coltrane,
Quantec,
OOIOO,
Roger Hodgson,
Carl Craig,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jeff Mills,
The Gladiators,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
8 Eyed Spy,
Mission of Burma,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cameo,
Harmonia,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Yaz,
Cybotron,
The Sonics,
Fluxion,
Andrew Hill,
Das Ding,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.