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 Djibouti and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 Groovy Waters to the rap 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sight & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Half Japanese record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
the Fania All-Stars,
T. Rex,
Pylon,
Scientists,
Deadbeat,
Nik Kershaw,
Spoonie Gee,
Todd Terry,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Royal Trux,
Bootsy Collins,
Bobby Sherman,
The Pop Group,
Inner City,
48th St. Collective,
Fatback Band,
The Offenders,
The Stooges,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Names,
X-Ray Spex,
Marmalade,
Deepchord,
Rakim,
The J.B.'s,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
the Slits,
Drive Like Jehu,
Porter Ricks,
Gabor Szabo,
The Beau Brummels,
Motorama,
Arab on Radar,
Lower 48,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Yaz,
Derrick May,
Khruangbin,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Carl Craig,
Pagans,
Hoover,
Adolescents,
David Bowie,
Camouflage,
Chris Corsano,
Black Moon,
Excepter,
The Move,
Swans,
Amon Düül,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lebanon Hanover,
Stereo Dub,
Darondo,
Massinfluence,
Soft Cell,
Maleditus Sound,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.