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 Zambia and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Arab on Radar to the electroclash 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 Soul II Soul. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
DJ Style,
Hot Snakes,
Ten City,
Y Pants,
Jesper Dahlback,
Moss Icon,
Section 25,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The United States of America,
Bobby Byrd,
Schoolly D,
Quando Quango,
David Bowie,
Roger Hodgson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Selecter,
The Index,
Suicide,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Slits,
Kerri Chandler,
The Modern Lovers,
Bush Tetras,
Johnny Clarke,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Monks,
Duran Duran,
Siglo XX,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bluetip,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Oneida,
The Move,
Blancmange,
Fad Gadget,
Country Teasers,
Neu!,
The Cramps,
Mission of Burma,
Fela Kuti,
The Real Kids,
Jawbox,
Kas Product,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hashim,
Brick,
Isaac Hayes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Standells,
Gabor Szabo,
Pulsallama,
The Gladiators,
Stockholm Monsters,
Popol Vuh,
David Axelrod,
The Misunderstood,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Desert Stars,
Thee Headcoats,
Dorothy Ashby,
Danielle Patucci,
Susan Cadogan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.