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 Bahamas and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Malaria! to the dance 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 The Mummies. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
The Gladiators,
Robert Wyatt,
Cybotron,
Matthew Halsall,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Technova,
the Sonics,
Cluster,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Tom Boy,
UT,
Nico,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Fire Engines,
Cheater Slicks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ossler,
Bill Near,
Donald Byrd,
Glenn Branca,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Marine Girls,
Eric Dolphy,
Brass Construction,
The Sound,
MDC,
Pere Ubu,
Sun Ra,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
L. Decosne,
the Association,
The Martian,
Black Flag,
kango's stein massive,
Camouflage,
Howard Jones,
June of 44,
Man Parrish,
Trumans Water,
Youth Brigade,
Agent Orange,
Neu!,
Roger Hodgson,
Swans,
Arab on Radar,
Kenny Larkin,
The Gap Band,
Wally Richardson,
Harpers Bizarre,
FM Einheit,
The Wake,
Barry Ungar,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Drexciya,
The Techniques,
Stockholm Monsters,
Juan Atkins,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.