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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Robert Wyatt to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Tears for Fears,
Don Cherry,
Quadrant,
Funky Four + One,
Bronski Beat,
The Move,
Eric Copeland,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Echospace,
Thee Headcoats,
The Modern Lovers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Audionom,
Todd Terry,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Blossom Toes,
A Certain Ratio,
The Buckinghams,
Arthur Verocai,
The Divine Comedy,
New Age Steppers,
Hoover,
Flamin' Groovies,
Minny Pops,
Chrome,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gregory Isaacs,
Man Parrish,
Mad Mike,
The Cure,
Crash Course in Science,
Au Pairs,
Cymande,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ken Boothe,
Rekid,
These Immortal Souls,
X-Ray Spex,
The Black Dice,
Marine Girls,
Rakim,
Joe Smooth,
Dave Gahan,
Alton Ellis,
Motorama,
a-ha,
X-101,
Massinfluence,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Nas,
Country Teasers,
Scott Walker,
Con Funk Shun,
Gang Gang Dance,
Chris & Cosey,
The Monochrome Set,
Tim Buckley,
The Index,
The Monks,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.