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 Uganda and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Harpers Bizarre to the punk 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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
Kayak,
Soulsonic Force,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Red Krayola,
Audionom,
Ten City,
Groovy Waters,
Scratch Acid,
Jeru the Damaja,
Blake Baxter,
Gang Green,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pharoah Sanders,
London Community Gospel Choir,
F. McDonald,
Wings,
The Victims,
Mantronix,
Black Bananas,
Hashim,
The Moody Blues,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lyres,
The Buckinghams,
Erasure,
Ken Boothe,
Pylon,
Nico,
Gregory Isaacs,
Althea and Donna,
Minor Threat,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tres Demented,
Isaac Hayes,
Junior Murvin,
Roxy Music,
Robert Hood,
The Monks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mark Hollis,
Morten Harket,
Ultimate Spinach,
Albert Ayler,
Faust,
The Sonics,
Radio Birdman,
Accadde A,
Public Image Ltd.,
Donald Byrd,
Ituana,
Lucky Dragons,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Throbbing Gristle,
JFA,
Moby Grape,
Tropical Tobacco,
Animal Collective,
The Beau Brummels,
Franke,
Lebanon Hanover,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.