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 Johannesburg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the snare 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Raincoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Khruangbin,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Eric B and Rakim,
Cybotron,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Sheep,
Danielle Patucci,
Bobby Hutcherson,
L. Decosne,
Tommy Roe,
Cluster,
Newcleus,
48th St. Collective,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Pretty Things,
Blossom Toes,
Das Ding,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rod Modell,
The Fortunes,
Archie Shepp,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scientists,
Idris Muhammad,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Groovy Waters,
The Standells,
Gastr Del Sol,
Siglo XX,
Organ,
Slave,
Shoche,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Moby Grape,
Marc Almond,
Soul II Soul,
Duran Duran,
Flash Fearless,
Dennis Brown,
Todd Terry,
The Victims,
Thompson Twins,
The Music Machine,
China Crisis,
Ludus,
Michelle Simonal,
Procol Harum,
Radiohead,
The Blues Magoos,
Zero Boys,
The Fugs,
the Soft Cell,
Pantaleimon,
New York Dolls,
Depeche Mode,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.