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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare 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 Sugar Minott to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Rundgren,
Symarip,
DNA,
The Dirtbombs,
The Five Americans,
Kas Product,
Au Pairs,
Althea and Donna,
Nirvana,
the Bar-Kays,
The Wake,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lungfish,
Byron Stingily,
Vladislav Delay,
The Electric Prunes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Johnny Clarke,
Mark Hollis,
Blake Baxter,
David Axelrod,
Siglo XX,
Pierre Henry,
New Age Steppers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mr. Review,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kevin Saunderson,
Easy Going,
The Flesh Eaters,
Severed Heads,
Donny Hathaway,
Matthew Bourne,
Deepchord,
The Standells,
Can,
Flipper,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Slits,
The Index,
The Searchers,
Josef K,
Liliput,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Circle Jerks,
Silicon Teens,
Don Cherry,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Suicide,
H. Thieme,
The Cure,
Alice Coltrane,
Marc Almond,
Negative Approach,
Dark Day,
Ronan,
The Star Department,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.