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 Belgium and from Manila.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Frankie Knuckles to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
R.M.O.,
Jeff Mills,
the Fania All-Stars,
PIL,
Aswad,
Crash Course in Science,
Roger Hodgson,
48th St. Collective,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Don Cherry,
The Smoke,
Amon Düül II,
Lower 48,
Barclay James Harvest,
Black Pus,
The Alarm Clocks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Swell Maps,
The Seeds,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mad Mike,
New York Dolls,
Grey Daturas,
David McCallum,
The Techniques,
X-Ray Spex,
Sound Behaviour,
Alton Ellis,
Black Flag,
Country Teasers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Barry Ungar,
The Remains,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Banda Bassotti,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Metal Thangz,
Vainqueur,
JFA,
Charles Mingus,
Sarah Menescal,
Chrome,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brothers Johnson,
Qualms,
Hasil Adkins,
Johnny Clarke,
Excepter,
Mantronix,
Skriet,
Sister Nancy,
Wasted Youth,
Gang Starr,
Rod Modell,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Birthday Party,
Tears for Fears,
The Trojans,
Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis.
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.