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 South Sudan and from Toronto.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Mandrill to the techno 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Todd Terry,
Ohio Players,
Tropical Tobacco,
Graham Central Station,
Steve Hackett,
The Golliwogs,
Organ,
Ralphi Rosario,
Accadde A,
Scientists,
Grauzone,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Chrome,
Bootsy Collins,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
This Heat,
Stiv Bators,
Harmonia,
Carl Craig,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Desert Stars,
Wally Richardson,
the Association,
Ronan,
The Fortunes,
the Slits,
Albert Ayler,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cluster,
Fugazi,
Easy Going,
Jeff Mills,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Todd Rundgren,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Isaac Hayes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mantronix,
Youth Brigade,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Joy Division,
The Moleskins,
Matthew Halsall,
Lebanon Hanover,
Arab on Radar,
Lou Reed,
Ponytail,
Soulsonic Force,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Soul II Soul,
X-101,
The Slackers,
Hasil Adkins,
Terrestrial Tones,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Fela Kuti,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Skarface,
Vainqueur,
Tom Boy,
T. Rex,
Scan 7,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.