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 Palau 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Taipei.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar 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 Stiv Bators to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every cv313 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kool Moe Dee,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bob Dylan,
Cybotron,
The Gladiators,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Television Personalities,
Khruangbin,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
H. Thieme,
Dead Boys,
Jerry's Kids,
Bang On A Can,
Supertramp,
Ossler,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bill Wells,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
These Immortal Souls,
The Gap Band,
The Motions,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
DJ Style,
The Alarm Clocks,
Danielle Patucci,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pantytec,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dark Day,
X-102,
Frankie Knuckles,
Yazoo,
Hardrive,
Todd Rundgren,
Laurel Aitken,
Royal Trux,
F. McDonald,
June of 44,
Unwound,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Glambeats Corp.,
Deakin,
Alice Coltrane,
The Leaves,
Yaz,
MDC,
Bobby Sherman,
Joe Finger,
The American Breed,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Dirtbombs,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Young Rascals,
Amazonics,
Angry Samoans,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.