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 Burkina and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Flamin' Groovies to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wake. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Soul II Soul,
Thee Headcoats,
Joey Negro,
the Slits,
Bob Dylan,
PIL,
Charles Mingus,
Derrick May,
Bluetip,
Prince Buster,
Schoolly D,
Robert Hood,
Second Layer,
B.T. Express,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Arcadia,
The Alarm Clocks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Malaria!,
The Doors,
Sandy B,
Easy Going,
Warsaw,
The Moody Blues,
La Düsseldorf,
Pylon,
Danielle Patucci,
James White and The Blacks,
Alison Limerick,
The Motions,
Jawbox,
Mr. Review,
Carl Craig,
Avey Tare,
Pussy Galore,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kenny Larkin,
Eddi Front,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
ABBA,
Mad Mike,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pantaleimon,
OOIOO,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sound Behaviour,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sun City Girls,
Das Ding,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soul Sonic Force,
Stetsasonic,
David Bowie,
Magma,
Iggy Pop,
Loose Ends,
Urselle,
Gabor Szabo,
E-Dancer,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.