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 Malawi and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 the Fania All-Stars to the grunge 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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Dorothy Ashby,
Henry Cow,
The Wake,
Crooked Eye,
The Litter,
Rakim,
Sixth Finger,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Cecil Taylor,
X-Ray Spex,
Electric Prunes,
Reagan Youth,
The Gories,
The Cure,
Livin' Joy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Vainqueur,
Kenny Larkin,
Fatback Band,
Gabor Szabo,
Harry Pussy,
Carl Craig,
Pantytec,
Lakeside,
Tommy Roe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
a-ha,
Matthew Bourne,
Quantec,
Eric Dolphy,
The Dirtbombs,
Barrington Levy,
Lalann,
Jawbox,
The Slits,
Judy Mowatt,
Model 500,
Soulsonic Force,
Minnie Riperton,
Archie Shepp,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
ABBA,
Tubeway Army,
The Divine Comedy,
The Move,
cv313,
Jerry's Kids,
The Fire Engines,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Birthday Party,
The Selecter,
Juan Atkins,
Ohio Players,
Soul II Soul,
Underground Resistance,
Wally Richardson,
Gerry Rafferty,
Delon & Dalcan,
David McCallum,
Kevin Saunderson,
Barbara Tucker,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.