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 Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 The Cure to the rock 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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Minnie Riperton,
Shoche,
The Standells,
David Bowie,
The Durutti Column,
Bootsy Collins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Symarip,
Popol Vuh,
In Retrospect,
Half Japanese,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
John Coltrane,
The Real Kids,
Mission of Burma,
Isaac Hayes,
The Offenders,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Soft Cell,
Dual Sessions,
The Motions,
the Swans,
Harmonia,
Procol Harum,
The Fall,
Cybotron,
The Raincoats,
Sandy B,
K-Klass,
Johnny Osbourne,
Talk Talk,
JFA,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bush Tetras,
Boz Scaggs,
ABBA,
a-ha,
Tommy Roe,
Joe Smooth,
Can,
Sam Rivers,
Connie Case,
R.M.O.,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eddi Front,
Don Cherry,
Ossler,
cv313,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lou Christie,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Robert Hood,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scott Walker,
Barrington Levy,
Nik Kershaw,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.