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 Switzerland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kurtis Blow to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siglo XX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Laurel Aitken,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Stereo Dub,
Siglo XX,
Dual Sessions,
The Red Krayola,
Frankie Knuckles,
Faust,
Carl Craig,
World's Most,
Wasted Youth,
The Index,
Rufus Thomas,
The Five Americans,
Average White Band,
L. Decosne,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Chris Corsano,
Cluster,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Royal Trux,
The Fugs,
Ultravox,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Roy Ayers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Boz Scaggs,
Funkadelic,
Q and Not U,
Derrick May,
Yazoo,
Marc Almond,
ABBA,
Black Pus,
Tomorrow,
Monolake,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Slick Rick,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sugar Minott,
Erasure,
Cybotron,
Can,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Albert Ayler,
Todd Terry,
Jerry's Kids,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Neon Judgement,
Fad Gadget,
David McCallum,
Mars,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mantronix,
Bill Wells,
Trumans Water,
Shoche,
Simply Red,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.