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 Liechtenstein and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Roxy Music to the techno 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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Y Pants,
Public Image Ltd.,
JFA,
The Trojans,
Roger Hodgson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Cure,
Joey Negro,
Skriet,
Sällskapet,
Idris Muhammad,
Ronan,
Subhumans,
Jerry's Kids,
Au Pairs,
Kerri Chandler,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Gladiators,
Jeff Lynne,
Gabor Szabo,
Cheater Slicks,
U.S. Maple,
the Swans,
Pierre Henry,
Unrelated Segments,
The Golliwogs,
Leonard Cohen,
Minnie Riperton,
Bob Dylan,
Joensuu 1685,
Suburban Knight,
the Association,
Pharoah Sanders,
Maleditus Sound,
The Star Department,
Suicide,
Kurtis Blow,
Hoover,
Juan Atkins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Young Marble Giants,
Soul Sonic Force,
Michelle Simonal,
Can,
Wasted Youth,
The Flesh Eaters,
Talk Talk,
Wings,
Tomorrow,
Mr. Review,
Khruangbin,
Al Stewart,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Knickerbockers,
Peter and Kerry,
Althea and Donna,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.