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 Montenegro and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Matthew Halsall to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Japan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
The Detroit Cobras,
Magma,
John Lydon,
Wire,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wally Richardson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Adolescents,
Donny Hathaway,
Terry Callier,
Bang On A Can,
The Stooges,
Television Personalities,
The Gories,
Chris Corsano,
B.T. Express,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gang of Four,
Thompson Twins,
Electric Prunes,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Birthday Party,
Sparks,
Mandrill,
The Motions,
Fela Kuti,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Scan 7,
Y Pants,
New Order,
The Smiths,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pylon,
Erykah Badu,
Peter and Kerry,
Bootsy Collins,
Wasted Youth,
Pole,
Lakeside,
Index,
Reuben Wilson,
The Zeros,
Grandmaster Flash,
Franke,
Hoover,
Nico,
Rekid,
Moss Icon,
Wolf Eyes,
New Age Steppers,
Cheater Slicks,
Mr. Review,
Lou Christie,
June Days,
the Slits,
Schoolly D,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Freddie Wadling,
Intrusion,
Roy Ayers,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.