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 Mauritania and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fire Engines to the crunk 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Invisible,
Leonard Cohen,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tim Buckley,
Barrington Levy,
Juan Atkins,
Anthony Braxton,
Negative Approach,
Scott Walker,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Evens,
Joe Finger,
Bobby Womack,
Johnny Clarke,
Lucky Dragons,
Fat Boys,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Visage,
The Move,
Soft Machine,
Deadbeat,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jeff Mills,
Tommy Roe,
The Happenings,
Bluetip,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jeff Lynne,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Charles Mingus,
Connie Case,
the Sonics,
Joyce Sims,
Television Personalities,
The Selecter,
Hasil Adkins,
Bush Tetras,
Ponytail,
PIL,
Matthew Bourne,
Junior Murvin,
Avey Tare,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Soul II Soul,
Hardrive,
Sugar Minott,
Man Parrish,
John Holt,
Pagans,
Delon & Dalcan,
Josef K,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Darondo,
Kayak,
The Fortunes,
Ohio Players,
Magma,
Jawbox,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Stereo Dub,
Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt.
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.