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 Armenia and from Cairo.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Livin' Joy to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Grauzone. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
One Last Wish,
Chrome,
Desert Stars,
Terry Callier,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Judy Mowatt,
kango's stein massive,
Tres Demented,
Glenn Branca,
Marvin Gaye,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Red Krayola,
Lalann,
Lou Reed,
Half Japanese,
Ultravox,
Angry Samoans,
Bob Dylan,
Audionom,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
the Bar-Kays,
Cheater Slicks,
Ponytail,
Tom Boy,
The Fall,
Underground Resistance,
Man Parrish,
The Birthday Party,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lindisfarne,
Bobby Womack,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
8 Eyed Spy,
Aloha Tigers,
Simply Red,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sandy B,
The Last Poets,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dennis Brown,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sixth Finger,
H. Thieme,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Tremeloes,
Ten City,
Sly & The Family Stone,
June of 44,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Stereo Dub,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Fat Boys,
The Moody Blues,
Rakim,
Yaz,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell.
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.