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 Ethiopia and from Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Derrick Morgan to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Masters at Work,
Popol Vuh,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Black Dice,
Supertramp,
Tears for Fears,
Alice Coltrane,
8 Eyed Spy,
Franke,
Mo-Dettes,
Negative Approach,
Simply Red,
Traffic Nightmare,
Quadrant,
Saccharine Trust,
Susan Cadogan,
Inner City,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Association,
Mission of Burma,
The Real Kids,
Swell Maps,
The Slackers,
Pussy Galore,
The Blues Magoos,
X-102,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Leaves,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Mandrill,
Joensuu 1685,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Kayak,
Ponytail,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Neon Judgement,
Arab on Radar,
The Doobie Brothers,
Agent Orange,
Lou Reed,
Infiniti,
Glambeats Corp.,
Arcadia,
Reagan Youth,
Whodini,
Harmonia,
Lightning Bolt,
Yellowson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pulsallama,
Neil Young,
The Offenders,
Pantaleimon,
Todd Terry,
Severed Heads,
Silicon Teens,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kerrie Biddell,
Moby Grape,
Bill Near,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.