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 Afghanistan and from Lyon.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Sao Paulo.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Brass Construction 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 Au Pairs. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Sonny Sharrock,
X-Ray Spex,
X-102,
Section 25,
LL Cool J,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
T. Rex,
Metal Thangz,
The Kinks,
Nick Fraelich,
Josef K,
Accadde A,
Johnny Clarke,
Sugar Minott,
the Association,
Skriet,
Laurel Aitken,
The Blues Magoos,
Jandek,
Ultra Naté,
Banda Bassotti,
Japan,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Camouflage,
David Bowie,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Suicide,
The Index,
The Star Department,
B.T. Express,
Derrick May,
Dave Gahan,
Chris & Cosey,
Bill Near,
D'Angelo,
Donald Byrd,
Porter Ricks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
KRS-One,
Swell Maps,
Urselle,
Soulsonic Force,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Supertramp,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Half Japanese,
AZ,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
La Düsseldorf,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Bar-Kays,
Scratch Acid,
New York Dolls,
Boz Scaggs,
Sam Rivers,
Piero Umiliani,
Das Ding,
Shuggie Otis,
Lyres,
Bobby Byrd,
Godley & Creme,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.