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 Guinea-Bissau and from Edmonton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lower 48 to the dance 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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deakin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Cecil Taylor,
Black Bananas,
Scrapy,
Mars,
The Electric Prunes,
The Fire Engines,
Aural Exciters,
Easy Going,
Crooked Eye,
Pantytec,
Pole,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wasted Youth,
Henry Cow,
The Fall,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eve St. Jones,
Gichy Dan,
Fela Kuti,
The Red Krayola,
Amon Düül,
Khruangbin,
Rapeman,
U.S. Maple,
Agent Orange,
Anthony Braxton,
Eurythmics,
Drexciya,
Flamin' Groovies,
New York Dolls,
Hashim,
Zero Boys,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Blossom Toes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Guru Guru,
Infiniti,
The Gories,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Pop Group,
Visage,
Accadde A,
Tomorrow,
Tubeway Army,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Brand Nubian,
Ultravox,
Chrome,
Todd Terry,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kool Moe Dee,
A Certain Ratio,
Swell Maps,
Radiohead,
Deakin,
Barrington Levy,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.