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 Syria and from Johannesburg.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Madrid.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the 808 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 Eric B and Rakim to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Sly & The Family Stone,
DNA,
Fela Kuti,
Black Bananas,
Maurizio,
The Fall,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hardrive,
Gang Green,
10cc,
Lebanon Hanover,
Brand Nubian,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marvin Gaye,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Cowsills,
Country Teasers,
Loose Ends,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Junior Murvin,
T.S.O.L.,
ABBA,
Rotary Connection,
Crooked Eye,
Bootsy Collins,
Cheater Slicks,
Metal Thangz,
a-ha,
Quantec,
Susan Cadogan,
the Bar-Kays,
Das Ding,
Frankie Knuckles,
Heaven 17,
Gabor Szabo,
The New Christs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Swans,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Young Marble Giants,
The Birthday Party,
The Moleskins,
Slick Rick,
The Divine Comedy,
Alphaville,
The Fugs,
The Barracudas,
Thee Headcoats,
Guru Guru,
The Mighty Diamonds,
K-Klass,
Cecil Taylor,
Zero Boys,
Skaos,
The Walker Brothers,
Pantytec,
The Red Krayola,
Sixth Finger,
Scrapy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.