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 Brunei and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Joey Negro to the rap 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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pere Ubu,
Cecil Taylor,
Thee Headcoats,
Iggy Pop,
Soulsonic Force,
The Divine Comedy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fat Boys,
The Vogues,
Theoretical Girls,
Oneida,
Sun City Girls,
Zero Boys,
Quadrant,
June Days,
Jawbox,
Kool Moe Dee,
John Coltrane,
JFA,
Jerry's Kids,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ossler,
Sarah Menescal,
Black Pus,
Black Moon,
Ohio Players,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
These Immortal Souls,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Saints,
The Angels of Light,
Maurizio,
Robert Wyatt,
EPMD,
The Cowsills,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Bar-Kays,
Sparks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eli Mardock,
Joe Smooth,
Lee Hazlewood,
Aswad,
The Smiths,
Todd Terry,
Bronski Beat,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pierre Henry,
Brand Nubian,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Sonics,
The Moleskins,
Soft Cell,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Victims,
H. Thieme,
The Real Kids,
Warsaw,
Eurythmics,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.