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 Pakistan and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kevin Saunderson to the techno 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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Ossler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Radio Birdman,
The Walker Brothers,
48th St. Collective,
Radiohead,
Albert Ayler,
Scrapy,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Invisible,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Monolake,
Aaron Thompson,
Ultra Naté,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Cowsills,
Liliput,
the Fania All-Stars,
Howard Jones,
Derrick May,
Simply Red,
The Slits,
Shuggie Otis,
Dave Gahan,
the Germs,
Andrew Hill,
The Evens,
Lindisfarne,
DNA,
Desert Stars,
Davy DMX,
The Last Poets,
Tubeway Army,
Heaven 17,
Wire,
The Busters,
Popol Vuh,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Shoche,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lungfish,
Thee Headcoats,
Ronnie Foster,
Ultimate Spinach,
Byron Stingily,
Panda Bear,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dennis Brown,
The Trojans,
Jerry's Kids,
Marvin Gaye,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ossler,
The Monks,
Glenn Branca,
The Black Dice,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Anakelly,
Eden Ahbez,
Juan Atkins,
Ohio Players,
Michelle Simonal,
Model 500, Model 500, Model 500, Model 500.
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.