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 Yemen and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Trojans to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear 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?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Banda Bassotti,
MDC,
Aural Exciters,
Grandmaster Flash,
Glambeats Corp.,
Blancmange,
Panda Bear,
Bootsy Collins,
Hardrive,
Brand Nubian,
Trumans Water,
Blossom Toes,
Jerry's Kids,
Loose Ends,
Hoover,
Fela Kuti,
Sugar Minott,
Rod Modell,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Index,
Sixth Finger,
Q and Not U,
Scrapy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Minor Threat,
Index,
Scientists,
Depeche Mode,
Flamin' Groovies,
Freddie Wadling,
Bush Tetras,
Flash Fearless,
Robert Görl,
Jeff Mills,
Pole,
Delta 5,
Darondo,
John Lydon,
The Cowsills,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tommy Roe,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jeff Lynne,
The Red Krayola,
Colin Newman,
Supertramp,
The Tremeloes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ralphi Rosario,
48th St. Collective,
Accadde A,
The Sonics,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Wire,
Kerri Chandler,
DNA,
Royal Trux,
Urselle,
Erykah Badu,
John Holt,
Sarah Menescal,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.