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 Indonesia and from Hong Kong.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Andrew Hill to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Little Man tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Excepter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Niagra,
The Knickerbockers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ultravox,
Barry Ungar,
Scientists,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ice-T,
Todd Terry,
The Mummies,
Unwound,
The Star Department,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Move,
Dead Boys,
DNA,
The Fall,
Harry Pussy,
Man Parrish,
Intrusion,
Johnny Clarke,
Qualms,
The Flesh Eaters,
Malaria!,
Ten City,
Janne Schatter,
Reuben Wilson,
The Wake,
Youth Brigade,
Mars,
Crooked Eye,
Roy Ayers,
the Germs,
The Cure,
Angry Samoans,
Aloha Tigers,
Lyres,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sandy B,
Zero Boys,
Crash Course in Science,
Pulsallama,
The Detroit Cobras,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kaleidoscope,
MDC,
Monolake,
Bluetip,
Section 25,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fugazi,
Sister Nancy,
Drexciya,
Bobby Byrd,
Frankie Knuckles,
UT,
The Evens,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.