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 Morocco and from Jakarta.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Moby Grape to the crunk 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 Wake. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Ice-T,
Gang Starr,
The Buckinghams,
Easy Going,
Delon & Dalcan,
Procol Harum,
Parry Music,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rufus Thomas,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Young Rascals,
John Foxx,
The Invisible,
Masters at Work,
Don Cherry,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Traffic Nightmare,
Negative Approach,
The Flesh Eaters,
Matthew Halsall,
Scan 7,
The Index,
Bizarre Inc.,
Duran Duran,
Skarface,
Tropical Tobacco,
Slave,
Kayak,
The Slackers,
Henry Cow,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Toni Rubio,
Yazoo,
A Certain Ratio,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pantytec,
June of 44,
Ultra Naté,
Jacques Brel,
Soft Machine,
Nico,
Dead Boys,
Lindisfarne,
the Sonics,
Monks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Iggy Pop,
The Count Five,
Tomorrow,
KRS-One,
Nik Kershaw,
Lower 48,
Wings,
Faust,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bad Manners,
The Sound,
Mary Jane Girls,
Blake Baxter,
The Fuzztones,
Theoretical Girls,
The Cowsills,
Charles Mingus,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.