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 Nicaragua and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Easy Going to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Oneida. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
the Fania All-Stars,
Drexciya,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The American Breed,
Clear Light,
Fela Kuti,
Ken Boothe,
The Raincoats,
Silicon Teens,
New Age Steppers,
In Retrospect,
Au Pairs,
Connie Case,
Index,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Monks,
Johnny Clarke,
Skaos,
Khruangbin,
Pet Shop Boys,
Accadde A,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Adolescents,
Eden Ahbez,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Man Eating Sloth,
Make Up,
Cabaret Voltaire,
David McCallum,
Quando Quango,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sugar Minott,
Big Daddy Kane,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Toasters,
Scion,
Massinfluence,
Minny Pops,
The Velvet Underground,
The Moody Blues,
The Red Krayola,
The Birthday Party,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Divine Comedy,
John Coltrane,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Anakelly,
Wasted Youth,
Curtis Mayfield,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lucky Dragons,
Bush Tetras,
Sister Nancy,
Blossom Toes,
Pantaleimon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Don Cherry,
The Angels of Light,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Mars,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.