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 Niger and from Mumbai.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Count Five to the grunge 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
The Vogues,
Dark Day,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Quantec,
Rakim,
Aural Exciters,
Letta Mbulu,
The Pretty Things,
H. Thieme,
Nik Kershaw,
Sister Nancy,
Das Ding,
Pharoah Sanders,
Funky Four + One,
The Electric Prunes,
the Bar-Kays,
Jacob Miller,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Evens,
Absolute Body Control,
Bang On A Can,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Janne Schatter,
Jerry's Kids,
Eurythmics,
Slave,
Echospace,
Wasted Youth,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bauhaus,
The Fuzztones,
Cluster,
Roy Ayers,
The Busters,
Donald Byrd,
Cecil Taylor,
Stiv Bators,
Sparks,
Khruangbin,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Yaz,
Mandrill,
Section 25,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lightning Bolt,
The Birthday Party,
Nirvana,
Sam Rivers,
Zero Boys,
Stereo Dub,
Marmalade,
Kool Moe Dee,
Flash Fearless,
Suicide,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Robert Hood,
Monolake,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Minutemen,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.