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 Sweden and from Accra.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Radio Birdman to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex 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 techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
Pharoah Sanders,
Drive Like Jehu,
Roy Ayers,
The Wake,
Depeche Mode,
The Shadows of Knight,
Symarip,
Little Man,
Jeru the Damaja,
David Axelrod,
Porter Ricks,
Eden Ahbez,
Fela Kuti,
The American Breed,
Godley & Creme,
The Mummies,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Blues Magoos,
Deepchord,
The Happenings,
Pantytec,
Babytalk,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Inner City,
Sandy B,
John Coltrane,
The Offenders,
Simply Red,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
John Holt,
Mars,
Cybotron,
Bronski Beat,
Eric Dolphy,
Eddi Front,
Eric Copeland,
the Germs,
Kas Product,
The Gun Club,
cv313,
Black Flag,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jacob Miller,
Ludus,
Monks,
Bobby Byrd,
Mantronix,
Warsaw,
Nils Olav,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
AZ,
The Young Rascals,
Skarface,
Franke,
Lou Christie,
Blossom Toes,
Anthony Braxton,
Max Romeo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Newcleus,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.