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 Guinea-Bissau and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Q65 to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
The Moleskins,
Cameo,
Tubeway Army,
Idris Muhammad,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Inner City,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ralphi Rosario,
Das Ding,
Desert Stars,
The Knickerbockers,
Visage,
Supertramp,
Banda Bassotti,
Robert Wyatt,
The Young Rascals,
Gong,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Residents,
Roxy Music,
Warren Ellis,
The American Breed,
Sparks,
The J.B.'s,
The Offenders,
Bad Manners,
The New Christs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Guru Guru,
Minutemen,
The Five Americans,
Jandek,
Funkadelic,
Von Mondo,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Q and Not U,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Underground Resistance,
Bill Near,
Judy Mowatt,
Sandy B,
Interpol,
Jacques Brel,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Leaves,
Joy Division,
Eurythmics,
The Count Five,
The Divine Comedy,
Magazine,
Jeru the Damaja,
Au Pairs,
Mantronix,
Reuben Wilson,
The Electric Prunes,
Brass Construction,
Wolf Eyes,
Drexciya,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.