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 Singapore and from Seoul.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Fortunes to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sarah Menescal,
Cymande,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Circle Jerks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Walker Brothers,
Wally Richardson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Das Ding,
The Human League,
Stiv Bators,
Warren Ellis,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Severed Heads,
Dead Boys,
Qualms,
The Techniques,
Yazoo,
Scrapy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Arab on Radar,
Gerry Rafferty,
D'Angelo,
World's Most,
the Fania All-Stars,
La Düsseldorf,
Scion,
Brothers Johnson,
The Wake,
Gang Green,
Television,
The Sound,
Swell Maps,
Judy Mowatt,
The Fugs,
Alison Limerick,
Pere Ubu,
Monks,
Barry Ungar,
ABBA,
The United States of America,
48th St. Collective,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Albert Ayler,
Hardrive,
The Black Dice,
The Associates,
8 Eyed Spy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Panda Bear,
Section 25,
Youth Brigade,
Agitation Free,
Camouflage,
Thee Headcoats,
Gabor Szabo,
Ludus,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.