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 Mali and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Angry Samoans to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Evens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
Wings,
Kenny Larkin,
Sun Ra,
Average White Band,
Cecil Taylor,
Derrick May,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Harmonia,
Deepchord,
Scientists,
Hasil Adkins,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marshall Jefferson,
Minnie Riperton,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Zapp,
Pere Ubu,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
New York Dolls,
Pussy Galore,
Peter and Kerry,
Surgeon,
R.M.O.,
The Grass Roots,
10cc,
Minutemen,
Lou Reed,
Ken Boothe,
Monks,
Robert Wyatt,
The Searchers,
Ten City,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Seeds,
Juan Atkins,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Victims,
The Dead C,
Maurizio,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Fear,
Darondo,
The Smiths,
The Fuzztones,
Dead Boys,
Tres Demented,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Infiniti,
The Blues Magoos,
Gil Scott Heron,
a-ha,
Agent Orange,
Pantaleimon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Urselle,
The Blackbyrds,
Reagan Youth,
Barbara Tucker,
Jeff Lynne,
Mad Mike,
Ossler,
Tom Boy,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.