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 Honduras 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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bang On A Can to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Grauzone,
H. Thieme,
Leonard Cohen,
Big Daddy Kane,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Au Pairs,
Faust,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Malaria!,
Sällskapet,
Black Bananas,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Symarip,
Thee Headcoats,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Fortunes,
Isaac Hayes,
The Smiths,
Procol Harum,
Skriet,
The Fire Engines,
Harmonia,
Loose Ends,
Joyce Sims,
Byron Stingily,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Gladiators,
Donald Byrd,
The Cramps,
John Holt,
Kerri Chandler,
Livin' Joy,
The Cure,
Q65,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tres Demented,
Bill Wells,
Swans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Hasil Adkins,
Soulsonic Force,
Susan Cadogan,
The Electric Prunes,
Bush Tetras,
Pantytec,
Wings,
Crime,
Sonny Sharrock,
Josef K,
Eden Ahbez,
Mr. Review,
Babytalk,
Nation of Ulysses,
Eli Mardock,
Soft Cell,
The Monochrome Set,
Quadrant,
Dennis Brown,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.