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 Albania and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 marimba 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 Magma to the techno 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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell 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?
Buzzcocks,
Mary Jane Girls,
Black Pus,
Simply Red,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Fortunes,
Panda Bear,
The Gun Club,
Erykah Badu,
Sixth Finger,
Sister Nancy,
Half Japanese,
Lalann,
Glenn Branca,
Hashim,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dual Sessions,
Eurythmics,
Severed Heads,
The Mojo Men,
Pussy Galore,
Charles Mingus,
The Fire Engines,
Blancmange,
Spoonie Gee,
Lindisfarne,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
John Lydon,
Fluxion,
Black Bananas,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fat Boys,
Moss Icon,
Alphaville,
Guru Guru,
Cecil Taylor,
Slave,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Don Cherry,
The Tremeloes,
Excepter,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lyres,
The Gladiators,
U.S. Maple,
Pharoah Sanders,
Blake Baxter,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rosa Yemen,
The Monochrome Set,
The Gories,
Negative Approach,
Anthony Braxton,
China Crisis,
Peter & Gordon,
The Saints,
Main Source,
Roger Hodgson,
Pantytec,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.