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 Syria and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar 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 Silicon Teens to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity 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 an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Lucky Dragons,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Desert Stars,
Harry Pussy,
U.S. Maple,
The Stooges,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Soul Sonic Force,
Archie Shepp,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pulsallama,
Bill Wells,
Stetsasonic,
Amazonics,
Aural Exciters,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bill Near,
Nirvana,
Dark Day,
Ponytail,
The Black Dice,
The New Christs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jeff Lynne,
Man Parrish,
Bad Manners,
The Mojo Men,
World's Most,
Alphaville,
Crooked Eye,
Boredoms,
Hoover,
Tubeway Army,
Cal Tjader,
Au Pairs,
Alice Coltrane,
the Slits,
Can,
Terry Callier,
The Kinks,
Sarah Menescal,
Lalo Schifrin,
Agitation Free,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Tremeloes,
Whodini,
Average White Band,
Pantaleimon,
Scan 7,
Kurtis Blow,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Residents,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scrapy,
Sam Rivers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Roger Hodgson,
The Moody Blues,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.