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 Ghana 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Woodstock.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 rap 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All the Normal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moleskins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lower 48,
KRS-One,
Graham Central Station,
Stiv Bators,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Shadows of Knight,
Aswad,
The Index,
ABBA,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Danielle Patucci,
Rapeman,
Alison Limerick,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Pretty Things,
Skarface,
Au Pairs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joe Finger,
Trumans Water,
Sixth Finger,
Glenn Branca,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Cymande,
Cal Tjader,
Unwound,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Subhumans,
Scratch Acid,
Black Flag,
Excepter,
Sarah Menescal,
The Grass Roots,
Yaz,
David Bowie,
Matthew Halsall,
Loose Ends,
Colin Newman,
New York Dolls,
Franke,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Television,
Vladislav Delay,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jeff Lynne,
Derrick Morgan,
The Kinks,
Black Pus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jesper Dahlback,
Neil Young,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Tommy Roe,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Visage,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Smoke,
Con Funk Shun,
the Swans,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.