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 Gabon and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 organ 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 Laurel Aitken to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
David McCallum,
Nick Fraelich,
The Offenders,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lou Christie,
MDC,
The Smiths,
The Vogues,
Don Cherry,
Hasil Adkins,
Jesper Dahlback,
John Holt,
Sex Pistols,
Robert Görl,
It's A Beautiful Day,
John Cale,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Infiniti,
Black Moon,
Sugar Minott,
The Red Krayola,
Pere Ubu,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Flamin' Groovies,
Danielle Patucci,
The Selecter,
Spoonie Gee,
UT,
Alton Ellis,
New Age Steppers,
Brand Nubian,
Swans,
Boz Scaggs,
Rotary Connection,
Patti Smith,
Nas,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Five Americans,
Y Pants,
Derrick May,
Underground Resistance,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Thompson Twins,
JFA,
Porter Ricks,
Trumans Water,
Banda Bassotti,
Hot Snakes,
Wasted Youth,
Cybotron,
Siglo XX,
Minnie Riperton,
Mission of Burma,
Ronan,
Deakin,
Symarip,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ohio Players,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.