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 Comoros and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Todd Terry to the rap 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every a-ha record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
The Cowsills,
Camouflage,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
MC5,
La Düsseldorf,
Jawbox,
Mark Hollis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Faraquet,
Black Moon,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Laurel Aitken,
Bobby Womack,
The Sound,
The Selecter,
Minutemen,
Moby Grape,
Aswad,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Spoonie Gee,
Ultravox,
Juan Atkins,
F. McDonald,
The J.B.'s,
Toni Rubio,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Mummies,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
AZ,
Pantytec,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Intrusion,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marine Girls,
The Wake,
Arcadia,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gang of Four,
Wasted Youth,
Skaos,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mars,
The Litter,
In Retrospect,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Motorama,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Swell Maps,
Gichy Dan,
Vladislav Delay,
Stereo Dub,
Wings,
Carl Craig,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ponytail,
The Seeds,
Donald Byrd,
The Red Krayola,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.