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 Czech Republic and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Trojans to the funk 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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Animal Collective,
Fat Boys,
Nirvana,
Crispy Ambulance,
Babytalk,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pole,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scrapy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Dirtbombs,
David Bowie,
Skriet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Second Layer,
Soft Cell,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Radiohead,
8 Eyed Spy,
Dennis Brown,
Brand Nubian,
The Durutti Column,
Metal Thangz,
cv313,
Con Funk Shun,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ken Boothe,
Aaron Thompson,
John Cale,
Boz Scaggs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Blossom Toes,
Jawbox,
the Slits,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Al Stewart,
Excepter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Mandrill,
The Selecter,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Freddie Wadling,
Barbara Tucker,
Tomorrow,
Derrick May,
Sam Rivers,
Andrew Hill,
Soul II Soul,
Lower 48,
H. Thieme,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Unrelated Segments,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gerry Rafferty,
Hasil Adkins,
Mad Mike,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.