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 Serbia and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Popol Vuh to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultramagnetic MC's record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Bad Manners,
Television,
KRS-One,
New Age Steppers,
John Lydon,
Public Image Ltd.,
Barrington Levy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Organ,
Lou Christie,
Nico,
The Kinks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Andrew Hill,
These Immortal Souls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Glenn Branca,
Simply Red,
Jesper Dahlback,
Derrick Morgan,
Magma,
Los Fastidios,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Robert Wyatt,
Eli Mardock,
Fela Kuti,
Kas Product,
The Litter,
Peter and Kerry,
Sugar Minott,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Seeds,
Girls At Our Best!,
Stockholm Monsters,
Black Sheep,
Howard Jones,
Jacob Miller,
Icehouse,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Faust,
Barry Ungar,
June Days,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
8 Eyed Spy,
Essential Logic,
FM Einheit,
Alton Ellis,
Saccharine Trust,
Rufus Thomas,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Slackers,
Bootsy Collins,
Matthew Halsall,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Soulsonic Force,
Dawn Penn,
Angry Samoans,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.