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 Belarus 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Matthew Halsall to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Joyce Sims,
X-101,
Deadbeat,
Black Pus,
The Pretty Things,
The Motions,
Duran Duran,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Faraquet,
The J.B.'s,
Cymande,
Severed Heads,
Royal Trux,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Motorama,
Fear,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nirvana,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Gun Club,
Aural Exciters,
Pylon,
The American Breed,
Mars,
Cheater Slicks,
The Seeds,
Lou Christie,
Interpol,
Pantaleimon,
Jeru the Damaja,
Yazoo,
Aloha Tigers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Move,
Kenny Larkin,
Jacob Miller,
Ituana,
Scrapy,
Anthony Braxton,
The Durutti Column,
Circle Jerks,
Jandek,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
CMW,
Barry Ungar,
H. Thieme,
A Flock of Seagulls,
X-102,
Guru Guru,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Bananas,
the Fania All-Stars,
Monolake,
Inner City,
Deakin,
Barbara Tucker,
Josef K,
Dawn Penn,
Adolescents,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.