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 Estonia and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Cal Tjader 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 the Association. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
The Names,
Piero Umiliani,
Spoonie Gee,
Shuggie Otis,
The Mummies,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Sound,
Hasil Adkins,
These Immortal Souls,
Faraquet,
Gang Green,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Delon & Dalcan,
Groovy Waters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Dead C,
Public Enemy,
Wings,
The Cramps,
Animal Collective,
48th St. Collective,
Gabor Szabo,
Pole,
Malaria!,
The Grass Roots,
Anthony Braxton,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Wake,
Patti Smith,
Al Stewart,
The Flesh Eaters,
Traffic Nightmare,
Joey Negro,
Panda Bear,
Cymande,
Japan,
F. McDonald,
The Raincoats,
Slick Rick,
T.S.O.L.,
The Pretty Things,
John Foxx,
Gichy Dan,
Theoretical Girls,
Lower 48,
the Slits,
Mad Mike,
The Index,
Idris Muhammad,
Mary Jane Girls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Absolute Body Control,
Pere Ubu,
Robert Hood,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Black Sheep,
Joe Finger,
Grauzone,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.