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 Mali and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Alarm Clocks to the jazz 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 Mantronix. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalo Schifrin 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
Agitation Free,
Black Sheep,
The Moody Blues,
Bill Near,
The Moleskins,
Fad Gadget,
Brothers Johnson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cheater Slicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gabor Szabo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Boredoms,
Eddi Front,
Derrick Morgan,
MDC,
Sandy B,
Trumans Water,
Guru Guru,
Nation of Ulysses,
Todd Terry,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
K-Klass,
Massinfluence,
Sam Rivers,
Sister Nancy,
Arthur Verocai,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Searchers,
Echospace,
Oneida,
The Stooges,
Lyres,
Soft Machine,
Marshall Jefferson,
In Retrospect,
The Modern Lovers,
Procol Harum,
Q and Not U,
Circle Jerks,
Tommy Roe,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Spoonie Gee,
Yusef Lateef,
Popol Vuh,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Freddie Wadling,
Adolescents,
These Immortal Souls,
John Coltrane,
The Fall,
Judy Mowatt,
Nirvana,
The Slackers,
Blake Baxter,
Pierre Henry,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
T. Rex,
Pole,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.