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 South Sudan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Boogie Down Productions to the techno 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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cosmic Jokers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Ken Boothe,
The Beau Brummels,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Max Romeo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Evens,
Ice-T,
Masters at Work,
MDC,
Sexual Harrassment,
Moebius,
The Gladiators,
Underground Resistance,
Peter and Kerry,
Roxy Music,
Essential Logic,
Drexciya,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Human League,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jesper Dahlback,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
X-Ray Spex,
Dead Boys,
Saccharine Trust,
The Standells,
Barclay James Harvest,
Johnny Clarke,
the Normal,
Cameo,
Technova,
Chris Corsano,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Faust,
Crime,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bobby Sherman,
The Modern Lovers,
Cheater Slicks,
Black Bananas,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Anakelly,
Donald Byrd,
Leonard Cohen,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Chris & Cosey,
Brass Construction,
Swans,
The Dirtbombs,
Crispy Ambulance,
Shuggie Otis,
Rufus Thomas,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Glambeats Corp.,
Don Cherry,
The Neon Judgement,
Basic Channel,
The Monochrome Set,
Ohio Players,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.