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 Slovakia and from New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Black Sheep,
Ornette Coleman,
Nik Kershaw,
Blancmange,
Rakim,
Dark Day,
The Monochrome Set,
Yazoo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Magazine,
Barclay James Harvest,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Q and Not U,
The Slits,
Boogie Down Productions,
Flash Fearless,
Interpol,
The Sonics,
Alton Ellis,
Bobbi Humphrey,
R.M.O.,
the Sonics,
Faust,
Ice-T,
Roger Hodgson,
The American Breed,
The Golliwogs,
The Walker Brothers,
MDC,
Rufus Thomas,
Bush Tetras,
Audionom,
Lalo Schifrin,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Juan Atkins,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Yusef Lateef,
The Moody Blues,
Chrome,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Monks,
kango's stein massive,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fuzztones,
The Skatalites,
The Doors,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Hot Snakes,
The Saints,
Fear,
Essential Logic,
the Normal,
Thompson Twins,
Marine Girls,
Andrew Hill,
Todd Rundgren,
Franke,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.