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 Syria and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Andrew Hill to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Crooked Eye,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Five Americans,
The Fire Engines,
The Real Kids,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mo-Dettes,
The Divine Comedy,
Television,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Residents,
Tommy Roe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Chrome,
Rod Modell,
Marvin Gaye,
Radio Birdman,
Q65,
Gang Green,
The Black Dice,
Shoche,
PIL,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Zapp,
Scott Walker,
The Music Machine,
The Remains,
Grey Daturas,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gong,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Quantec,
Sun City Girls,
The Toasters,
Public Enemy,
Audionom,
Alton Ellis,
Graham Central Station,
Swans,
Eurythmics,
Thee Headcoats,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Fortunes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Joy Division,
Soulsonic Force,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rosa Yemen,
Lyres,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fad Gadget,
Rakim,
Cameo,
The Blues Magoos,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Slave,
Angry Samoans,
H. Thieme,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.