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 Cyprus and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sound Behaviour to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Bizarre Inc.,
Brothers Johnson,
Shoche,
Kerrie Biddell,
Can,
Liliput,
Little Man,
The Fortunes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Bananas,
Pet Shop Boys,
Wasted Youth,
Stereo Dub,
Josef K,
Cymande,
Livin' Joy,
Kenny Larkin,
Von Mondo,
Subhumans,
Fat Boys,
Harpers Bizarre,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Isaac Hayes,
Bronski Beat,
Rosa Yemen,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dave Gahan,
The Victims,
Hashim,
Sparks,
Scrapy,
Rufus Thomas,
The Kinks,
Jimmy McGriff,
Prince Buster,
the Sonics,
kango's stein massive,
Joyce Sims,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fluxion,
The Toasters,
Silicon Teens,
Drexciya,
Boredoms,
the Normal,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Flipper,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Slackers,
Newcleus,
Minny Pops,
Barbara Tucker,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Arcadia,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Invisible,
The Saints,
UT,
Blossom Toes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Easy Going,
Gang Starr,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.