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 Japan and from Milan.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Bauhaus to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Groovy Waters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deakin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Mantronix,
Camberwell Now,
Suicide,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The J.B.'s,
K-Klass,
Delta 5,
The Black Dice,
Crispian St. Peters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Names,
Con Funk Shun,
Erykah Badu,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ossler,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Grass Roots,
The Vogues,
Scion,
Joy Division,
Drive Like Jehu,
Junior Murvin,
Dual Sessions,
Aloha Tigers,
Los Fastidios,
Public Enemy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
T. Rex,
Gang of Four,
Bobby Byrd,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tommy Roe,
Magazine,
Juan Atkins,
Clear Light,
KRS-One,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cal Tjader,
Pere Ubu,
Byron Stingily,
Bobby Sherman,
The Litter,
Bang On A Can,
Ken Boothe,
Symarip,
Second Layer,
James White and The Blacks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
David Bowie,
Metal Thangz,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Simply Red,
Ash Ra Tempel,
OOIOO,
Pussy Galore,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
David Axelrod,
Lalann,
Freddie Wadling,
Television,
Glenn Branca,
The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites.
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.