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 Venezuela and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ 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 Bob Dylan to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Janne Schatter,
Jacob Miller,
Pierre Henry,
Flipper,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Brass Construction,
The Kinks,
Boz Scaggs,
Quadrant,
Spoonie Gee,
Man Parrish,
Radiopuhelimet,
Severed Heads,
Joey Negro,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jerry's Kids,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Alison Limerick,
Deadbeat,
Pussy Galore,
DJ Sneak,
Shoche,
Tim Buckley,
Shuggie Otis,
Au Pairs,
Reagan Youth,
Deakin,
X-Ray Spex,
The Remains,
Oneida,
Anthony Braxton,
The Fugs,
Suicide,
Cheater Slicks,
Morten Harket,
Depeche Mode,
LL Cool J,
Donald Byrd,
Supertramp,
The Vogues,
Massinfluence,
Outsiders,
Q65,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Skriet,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fugazi,
Boogie Down Productions,
Roxette,
Aloha Tigers,
Isaac Hayes,
The Music Machine,
Half Japanese,
Roger Hodgson,
Dawn Penn,
Drexciya,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.