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 Seychelles and from Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Cairo.
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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Heaven 17 to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Spoonie Gee,
Gong,
Vladislav Delay,
Mandrill,
The Moody Blues,
Buzzcocks,
Livin' Joy,
Depeche Mode,
The Cowsills,
The Red Krayola,
Eric Copeland,
Arthur Verocai,
The Skatalites,
Brick,
Eddi Front,
Tropical Tobacco,
Skriet,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Surgeon,
The Mojo Men,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
John Coltrane,
Frankie Knuckles,
Alton Ellis,
June of 44,
L. Decosne,
The Electric Prunes,
Ossler,
Nas,
Minor Threat,
Visage,
Symarip,
Andrew Hill,
Ituana,
Groovy Waters,
Make Up,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Fugs,
Peter and Kerry,
Anthony Braxton,
Traffic Nightmare,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Martian,
the Germs,
Audionom,
Loose Ends,
Duran Duran,
48th St. Collective,
Boogie Down Productions,
EPMD,
Lyres,
Hardrive,
Urselle,
Porter Ricks,
Slick Rick,
Unrelated Segments,
Jacob Miller,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.