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 Cuba and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 The Detroit Cobras to the dance 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Rekid,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Andrew Hill,
Idris Muhammad,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bobby Sherman,
Wasted Youth,
Letta Mbulu,
Quando Quango,
Janne Schatter,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Q and Not U,
Anthony Braxton,
Arthur Verocai,
Masters at Work,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eric Copeland,
Fat Boys,
Sugar Minott,
Audionom,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Alarm Clocks,
Royal Trux,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Sound,
Cluster,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pussy Galore,
Crooked Eye,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mantronix,
Bluetip,
The Star Department,
Glenn Branca,
Kurtis Blow,
Slave,
Dawn Penn,
Popol Vuh,
Chrome,
Cecil Taylor,
Television,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Monolake,
The Martian,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Womack,
Black Sheep,
Swans,
Pierre Henry,
New Age Steppers,
Alton Ellis,
Yaz,
Quantec,
Black Bananas,
Pere Ubu,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.