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 Lebanon and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Bill Wells to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wally Richardson,
Pierre Henry,
T. Rex,
David McCallum,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sun City Girls,
Circle Jerks,
In Retrospect,
Mandrill,
The Cowsills,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mars,
MC5,
Kevin Saunderson,
Charles Mingus,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Joe Finger,
Bobby Byrd,
Deakin,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sandy B,
Talk Talk,
Livin' Joy,
Al Stewart,
Scientists,
The Move,
Gang Gang Dance,
Infiniti,
Index,
Swans,
Lindisfarne,
Freddie Wadling,
Das Ding,
Grandmaster Flash,
Urselle,
Jeff Lynne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bizarre Inc.,
Con Funk Shun,
Public Image Ltd.,
Yaz,
Theoretical Girls,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Seeds,
Television Personalities,
Mo-Dettes,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Dave Clark Five,
OOIOO,
Letta Mbulu,
E-Dancer,
Sonny Sharrock,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jeru the Damaja,
Outsiders,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.