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 Oman and from Stockholm.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 synthesizer 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 Sam Rivers to the punk 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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 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 theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
DNA,
Ultravox,
The Fugs,
Silicon Teens,
Groovy Waters,
Sixth Finger,
Scan 7,
Gang Green,
Funky Four + One,
Bauhaus,
Flamin' Groovies,
David Axelrod,
Gang Starr,
Jerry's Kids,
The Gories,
The Last Poets,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Blackbyrds,
Harpers Bizarre,
Stetsasonic,
Electric Prunes,
Agitation Free,
In Retrospect,
Crash Course in Science,
Quadrant,
Erasure,
Soul Sonic Force,
F. McDonald,
Black Moon,
Swell Maps,
Shuggie Otis,
Ice-T,
Johnny Clarke,
Derrick May,
Fear,
Prince Buster,
T.S.O.L.,
Stiv Bators,
Yellowson,
Barry Ungar,
Harmonia,
Junior Murvin,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sällskapet,
Lungfish,
The Knickerbockers,
JFA,
La Düsseldorf,
Lou Reed,
Mary Jane Girls,
Susan Cadogan,
John Holt,
U.S. Maple,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Thee Headcoats,
The Victims,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.