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 Antigua and from Johannesburg.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Connie Case to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Byrd,
Duran Duran,
Aswad,
John Cale,
JFA,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Residents,
Ultra Naté,
Pagans,
Dawn Penn,
Isaac Hayes,
Quantec,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Charles Mingus,
Archie Shepp,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Yusef Lateef,
Gang Starr,
Stiv Bators,
Henry Cow,
Deadbeat,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Fugs,
Crime,
Tim Buckley,
Chris & Cosey,
The Victims,
Sound Behaviour,
The Motions,
Lower 48,
Banda Bassotti,
Cecil Taylor,
Marcia Griffiths,
Erykah Badu,
Make Up,
Gang of Four,
Smog,
Sex Pistols,
Lou Reed,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jacques Brel,
Donald Byrd,
Qualms,
Popol Vuh,
Adolescents,
Negative Approach,
Rosa Yemen,
DJ Sneak,
Average White Band,
Steve Hackett,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sun Ra,
Symarip,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lou Christie,
Eve St. Jones,
Derrick Morgan,
Harmonia,
Stockholm Monsters,
Judy Mowatt,
The Gories,
Idris Muhammad,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.