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 Germany and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Johannesburg.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Steve Hackett to the grime 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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
Brand Nubian,
Barrington Levy,
World's Most,
Rosa Yemen,
Cecil Taylor,
Boredoms,
The Fugs,
Archie Shepp,
the Slits,
Von Mondo,
Roxette,
Soul II Soul,
Wire,
Eric Dolphy,
The Divine Comedy,
The New Christs,
Lou Christie,
Todd Rundgren,
The Invisible,
Henry Cow,
Icehouse,
Anthony Braxton,
Ken Boothe,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Judy Mowatt,
Duran Duran,
Hashim,
Trumans Water,
The Slackers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
AZ,
The Trojans,
Little Man,
Angry Samoans,
Bauhaus,
K-Klass,
Kerrie Biddell,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Faraquet,
Toni Rubio,
Visage,
Marc Almond,
Bill Wells,
Bobby Womack,
Man Parrish,
Crash Course in Science,
The Gories,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Dave Clark Five,
Hasil Adkins,
Crispian St. Peters,
Panda Bear,
The Searchers,
Rotary Connection,
The Modern Lovers,
The Misunderstood,
Fear,
Gang Starr,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Black Dice,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.