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 Nepal and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Paris.
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 linndrum 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 Vladislav Delay to the grime 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 The Invisible. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dorothy Ashby,
Johnny Clarke,
Bauhaus,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mars,
Monks,
Minny Pops,
Boredoms,
Dual Sessions,
Joe Finger,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Skatalites,
Bronski Beat,
Newcleus,
The Pretty Things,
Bluetip,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Tim Buckley,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Patti Smith,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Amon Düül,
Black Bananas,
Thee Headcoats,
Mark Hollis,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sam Rivers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bob Dylan,
Los Fastidios,
Alison Limerick,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Saints,
Andrew Hill,
DJ Style,
James White and The Blacks,
Sandy B,
Mr. Review,
Lucky Dragons,
The Count Five,
Ituana,
Desert Stars,
Y Pants,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Fugs,
The Five Americans,
Yaz,
Kas Product,
Organ,
These Immortal Souls,
Stereo Dub,
Marmalade,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ultravox,
The Blues Magoos,
Model 500,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs.
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.