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 Kazakhstan and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 Sexual Harrassment to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New Order record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter and Kerry,
Roger Hodgson,
AZ,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Index,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
James White and The Blacks,
Scion,
The Monochrome Set,
The Trojans,
The Stooges,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bush Tetras,
The Busters,
Donald Byrd,
Flash Fearless,
Barrington Levy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
a-ha,
Zapp,
Lungfish,
Warren Ellis,
The Litter,
Pussy Galore,
Sun Ra,
The Fuzztones,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Residents,
Arab on Radar,
Lalann,
Carl Craig,
The Raincoats,
Gabor Szabo,
Gastr Del Sol,
Soft Cell,
Marc Almond,
U.S. Maple,
Sister Nancy,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Swans,
Kaleidoscope,
Skriet,
The Vogues,
Banda Bassotti,
Kerrie Biddell,
cv313,
Nico,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Section 25,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Piero Umiliani,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Standells,
R.M.O.,
Oblivians,
Wire,
Moby Grape,
Guru Guru,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Velvet Underground,
Cheater Slicks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band.
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.