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 Papua New Guinea and from Woodstock.
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 Salvador and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar 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 Johnny Osbourne to the jazz 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Soul Sonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pantytec,
Letta Mbulu,
Livin' Joy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mandrill,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Monks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roxy Music,
The Standells,
The Happenings,
The Evens,
Aloha Tigers,
Procol Harum,
The Last Poets,
This Heat,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Camouflage,
Soul Sonic Force,
Alice Coltrane,
Subhumans,
China Crisis,
Scan 7,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fugazi,
The Divine Comedy,
The Wake,
Qualms,
Minnie Riperton,
Harpers Bizarre,
Funky Four + One,
Rapeman,
Alison Limerick,
Brothers Johnson,
Bob Dylan,
The Star Department,
T. Rex,
Alton Ellis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bill Wells,
Funkadelic,
The Saints,
The Cramps,
Grey Daturas,
Kenny Larkin,
Connie Case,
Yaz,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Prince Buster,
Fela Kuti,
Mr. Review,
Cybotron,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
JFA,
Iggy Pop,
Motorama,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Idris Muhammad,
The Residents,
Johnny Osbourne,
Terrestrial Tones,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.