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 Morocco and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Michael McDonald 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 Gabor Szabo to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every AZ record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Hot Snakes,
The Pop Group,
Kool Moe Dee,
Section 25,
Angry Samoans,
Roxy Music,
Eric Dolphy,
Pantytec,
Jeff Lynne,
Swans,
Ornette Coleman,
The Index,
Rosa Yemen,
Sandy B,
Minutemen,
Wally Richardson,
Soulsonic Force,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Altered Images,
Television Personalities,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ossler,
Sixth Finger,
Pylon,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
UT,
Swell Maps,
Deakin,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bauhaus,
Depeche Mode,
Yusef Lateef,
The Remains,
New Order,
Idris Muhammad,
the Swans,
Black Moon,
The Sonics,
Eve St. Jones,
Spoonie Gee,
T.S.O.L.,
Mo-Dettes,
Erasure,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Selecter,
Camouflage,
Eli Mardock,
Country Teasers,
The Five Americans,
Unrelated Segments,
Slave,
Babytalk,
Oblivians,
Delta 5,
The Beau Brummels,
PIL,
the Human League,
The Fire Engines,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Dead C,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.