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 Marshall Islands and from Madrid.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 sitar 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 Easy Going to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joensuu 1685 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
Derrick May,
Underground Resistance,
Pylon,
Subhumans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Cecil Taylor,
Minnie Riperton,
T. Rex,
Roy Ayers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mission of Burma,
Arcadia,
The Index,
Mr. Review,
Arthur Verocai,
The Blues Magoos,
The Buckinghams,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
One Last Wish,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tom Boy,
Hasil Adkins,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Supertramp,
Lalann,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Little Man,
Darondo,
The Vogues,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Joensuu 1685,
Liliput,
Cluster,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pantytec,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mandrill,
Main Source,
Prince Buster,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
CMW,
Ponytail,
Sister Nancy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Los Fastidios,
Godley & Creme,
The United States of America,
Sonic Youth,
The Saints,
Moss Icon,
Popol Vuh,
Skarface,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ludus,
The Names,
The Smoke,
Joey Negro,
Shoche,
Scientists,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.