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 Cambodia and from London.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Archie Shepp to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
Cecil Taylor,
The Fall,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bobby Sherman,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gabor Szabo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Standells,
Erykah Badu,
Con Funk Shun,
Masters at Work,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Country Teasers,
The Stooges,
Todd Rundgren,
Radiopuhelimet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Pus,
Wally Richardson,
Das Ding,
Minny Pops,
Lou Reed,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Outsiders,
Laurel Aitken,
Franke,
Little Man,
Echospace,
Moby Grape,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kurtis Blow,
Kenny Larkin,
Tears for Fears,
Moss Icon,
Don Cherry,
Niagra,
Stereo Dub,
Youth Brigade,
Dark Day,
Sonic Youth,
Donald Byrd,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Wake,
The Happenings,
Pagans,
Lindisfarne,
Avey Tare,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Black Flag,
DJ Sneak,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Camberwell Now,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marmalade,
Archie Shepp,
Yaz,
Brothers Johnson,
Blancmange,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sound Behaviour,
Whodini,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.