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 Turkmenistan and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 48th St. Collective to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Lightning Bolt,
ABBA,
The Durutti Column,
Arab on Radar,
The Fugs,
The Remains,
Dawn Penn,
The Five Americans,
Circle Jerks,
Second Layer,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bluetip,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kurtis Blow,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott Heron,
Alison Limerick,
Skarface,
Pulsallama,
The Gories,
Mission of Burma,
Gang Green,
The Wake,
Leonard Cohen,
Deepchord,
Stiv Bators,
The Motions,
Godley & Creme,
Don Cherry,
Brick,
The Fire Engines,
Max Romeo,
Simply Red,
Al Stewart,
Eli Mardock,
Los Fastidios,
X-102,
Sun City Girls,
Nico,
H. Thieme,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Skatalites,
Marine Girls,
Newcleus,
Young Marble Giants,
Yaz,
The Gap Band,
Joey Negro,
The Dave Clark Five,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Cal Tjader,
Hoover,
Suicide,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Warsaw,
Nick Fraelich,
Mark Hollis,
A Certain Ratio,
Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case.
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.