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 San Marino and from Salvador.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba 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 Crispian St. Peters to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Move. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Divine Comedy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day 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?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
John Coltrane,
Subhumans,
The Blues Magoos,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
Niagra,
The United States of America,
Desert Stars,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Moss Icon,
Lalann,
Godley & Creme,
The Martian,
Joe Smooth,
Barbara Tucker,
Boz Scaggs,
Faraquet,
Arcadia,
Gang of Four,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Gun Club,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang Green,
Dennis Brown,
Silicon Teens,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sarah Menescal,
Juan Atkins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Junior Murvin,
Rotary Connection,
Rekid,
The Alarm Clocks,
Reuben Wilson,
Morten Harket,
Rosa Yemen,
Popol Vuh,
Circle Jerks,
Jerry's Kids,
The Moody Blues,
Jeff Mills,
Country Teasers,
Gong,
Flamin' Groovies,
Neil Young,
Aloha Tigers,
Pere Ubu,
Fluxion,
Eli Mardock,
Ohio Players,
Amazonics,
Stiv Bators,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deepchord,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Grey Daturas,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sight & Sound,
The Young Rascals,
Rites of Spring,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.