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 Guyana and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Rosa Yemen to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Drexciya,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Standells,
Swell Maps,
Jimmy McGriff,
cv313,
Tubeway Army,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Blues Magoos,
Thee Headcoats,
Glambeats Corp.,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rites of Spring,
Barclay James Harvest,
Basic Channel,
Arab on Radar,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pere Ubu,
Agent Orange,
Lungfish,
Stetsasonic,
Symarip,
Franke,
Black Flag,
The Walker Brothers,
Excepter,
Marvin Gaye,
Brothers Johnson,
The Modern Lovers,
Henry Cow,
Glenn Branca,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Scott Walker,
Ultimate Spinach,
Quantec,
Bizarre Inc.,
Radio Birdman,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Popol Vuh,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ohio Players,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cybotron,
X-Ray Spex,
Wings,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Music Machine,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rod Modell,
Stereo Dub,
Gichy Dan,
EPMD,
Cymande,
Eddi Front,
Nik Kershaw,
Boredoms,
Bobby Womack,
The Selecter,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.