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 Marshall Islands and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 harpsichord 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 Youth Brigade to the grunge 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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Negative Approach,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nation of Ulysses,
Minor Threat,
Flamin' Groovies,
Infiniti,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gong,
Spoonie Gee,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-Ray Spex,
La Düsseldorf,
Pharoah Sanders,
Smog,
ABC,
Depeche Mode,
Pierre Henry,
Das Ding,
Khruangbin,
Slave,
Tropical Tobacco,
This Heat,
Rapeman,
T. Rex,
LL Cool J,
The Real Kids,
Parry Music,
Black Bananas,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
FM Einheit,
Intrusion,
New Age Steppers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Saints,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tommy Roe,
Bluetip,
Mr. Review,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Fuzztones,
Avey Tare,
Soft Machine,
the Slits,
Angry Samoans,
The Count Five,
Cheater Slicks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Black Dice,
Suicide,
Livin' Joy,
Simply Red,
Average White Band,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Blossom Toes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Swans,
Sun Ra,
Hardrive,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.