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 Tonga and from Calgary.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the organ 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 OOIOO to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
the Fania All-Stars,
Barrington Levy,
Swell Maps,
Sight & Sound,
Matthew Bourne,
Bill Wells,
Pantytec,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tommy Roe,
Kaleidoscope,
Piero Umiliani,
Marmalade,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Moebius,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Public Image Ltd.,
Babytalk,
Idris Muhammad,
The Moody Blues,
John Coltrane,
Mo-Dettes,
Nils Olav,
Tomorrow,
Donald Byrd,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Crime,
Deepchord,
Harmonia,
Monks,
Mr. Review,
Eurythmics,
Procol Harum,
Sugar Minott,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lakeside,
Gang Green,
Cluster,
Gregory Isaacs,
Don Cherry,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Newcleus,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lucky Dragons,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Gories,
The Names,
Carl Craig,
Spandau Ballet,
Section 25,
Peter & Gordon,
The Cowsills,
Joe Finger,
Electric Prunes,
Bob Dylan,
Roxette,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Absolute Body Control,
Theoretical Girls,
Hashim,
Dave Gahan,
Siglo XX,
Royal Trux,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.