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 Guatemala and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sex Pistols to the rap 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rotary Connection,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Echospace,
MDC,
Johnny Clarke,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bobby Womack,
Oblivians,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dave Gahan,
The Wake,
Jawbox,
Terry Callier,
Dead Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Outsiders,
Soul II Soul,
Basic Channel,
Sarah Menescal,
Slave,
Black Sheep,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Roxy Music,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sonic Youth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
John Holt,
Dennis Brown,
ABBA,
Tres Demented,
Motorama,
Derrick Morgan,
the Human League,
Nirvana,
Simply Red,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Metal Thangz,
Funkadelic,
Judy Mowatt,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Delta 5,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Brass Construction,
DNA,
the Germs,
The Pop Group,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Man Parrish,
Television,
Pulsallama,
Gil Scott Heron,
Masters at Work,
Cecil Taylor,
Andrew Hill,
John Cale,
R.M.O.,
Nico,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Thee Headcoats,
Vladislav Delay,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.