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 Saudi Arabia and from Houston.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Soft Machine to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
June of 44,
Moss Icon,
The Litter,
Maleditus Sound,
Dawn Penn,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Dead C,
Aswad,
10cc,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ponytail,
David McCallum,
In Retrospect,
Cheater Slicks,
Scion,
Underground Resistance,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
AZ,
Charles Mingus,
Deakin,
Gabor Szabo,
Ultra Naté,
Barrington Levy,
The Monochrome Set,
Jesper Dahlback,
Trumans Water,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Tremeloes,
Lalann,
Nation of Ulysses,
Smog,
The Raincoats,
Graham Central Station,
Rosa Yemen,
The Leaves,
The Happenings,
Yazoo,
Matthew Halsall,
Q and Not U,
The Remains,
The Toasters,
Soft Machine,
Sun Ra,
Visage,
Alison Limerick,
Roy Ayers,
Zapp,
Hoover,
E-Dancer,
Motorama,
The Kinks,
The Golliwogs,
Ornette Coleman,
Surgeon,
Pylon,
These Immortal Souls,
Loose Ends,
Intrusion,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sexual Harrassment,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud.
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.