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 Oman and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gladiators to the grunge 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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Lightning Bolt,
Amazonics,
Junior Murvin,
Lungfish,
Make Up,
Q and Not U,
Royal Trux,
Erykah Badu,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Matthew Bourne,
Skaos,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Angry Samoans,
Nas,
Second Layer,
The Smiths,
Robert Görl,
Bobby Womack,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dark Day,
The Beau Brummels,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Monks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Alphaville,
Pulsallama,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pantaleimon,
Judy Mowatt,
Guru Guru,
X-101,
Das Ding,
the Human League,
Black Flag,
Cluster,
Roger Hodgson,
The Sound,
The Grass Roots,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Quando Quango,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Wake,
Prince Buster,
Gang Green,
The J.B.'s,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rufus Thomas,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gang of Four,
Flipper,
Eric B and Rakim,
Agitation Free,
Laurel Aitken,
Bob Dylan,
Panda Bear,
The Golliwogs,
Brand Nubian,
T. Rex,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.