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 Burkina and from Toronto.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bang On A Can to the rock 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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
The Flesh Eaters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Q and Not U,
The Move,
Junior Murvin,
In Retrospect,
Drive Like Jehu,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Blackbyrds,
Cal Tjader,
This Heat,
Joyce Sims,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Blossom Toes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The New Christs,
The Five Americans,
Parry Music,
the Soft Cell,
Marc Almond,
June of 44,
The Standells,
The Alarm Clocks,
Siglo XX,
Inner City,
Gang of Four,
The Fugs,
Mandrill,
The Pretty Things,
Tommy Roe,
Ice-T,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Procol Harum,
Rites of Spring,
Camberwell Now,
kango's stein massive,
Wire,
Mo-Dettes,
The Cure,
Cluster,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cecil Taylor,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ronan,
The Invisible,
Jeff Lynne,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bobby Hutcherson,
MC5,
Jacob Miller,
Minnie Riperton,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Matthew Bourne,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Black Dice,
Pole,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.