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 Greece and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Vladislav Delay 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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Alice Coltrane,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Wings,
K-Klass,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Thee Headcoats,
The Happenings,
Monolake,
The Residents,
James White and The Blacks,
Faraquet,
The Moody Blues,
Quando Quango,
The Gladiators,
The Leaves,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Golliwogs,
Fela Kuti,
The Barracudas,
Country Teasers,
Peter & Gordon,
Lakeside,
Outsiders,
Rapeman,
This Heat,
Deakin,
Roy Ayers,
Soft Cell,
Monks,
The Index,
Duran Duran,
Max Romeo,
Slick Rick,
Erykah Badu,
Audionom,
The Fire Engines,
The United States of America,
One Last Wish,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bad Manners,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobby Byrd,
Fad Gadget,
Bootsy Collins,
Connie Case,
Little Man,
Sarah Menescal,
Public Enemy,
Los Fastidios,
Drexciya,
Patti Smith,
Joe Finger,
Charles Mingus,
Susan Cadogan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
H. Thieme,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.