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 Kenya and from Delhi.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Pere Ubu to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Chris & Cosey,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sandy B,
Lee Hazlewood,
Barry Ungar,
June of 44,
New Order,
Morten Harket,
The Dead C,
Peter & Gordon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Leaves,
Nik Kershaw,
Das Ding,
Heaven 17,
ABC,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dave Gahan,
Cymande,
Sly & The Family Stone,
OOIOO,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sun City Girls,
Gong,
Pharoah Sanders,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kayak,
Howard Jones,
Masters at Work,
Archie Shepp,
48th St. Collective,
The Star Department,
Reagan Youth,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minny Pops,
Kaleidoscope,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Popol Vuh,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Gap Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dual Sessions,
These Immortal Souls,
Frankie Knuckles,
a-ha,
Khruangbin,
Cluster,
Royal Trux,
Anthony Braxton,
Lower 48,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eric Dolphy,
The Residents,
Bobby Byrd,
Faraquet,
Grey Daturas,
Maurizio,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.