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 Vietnam and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 Interpol to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lakeside record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Sällskapet,
Livin' Joy,
Guru Guru,
The United States of America,
Tom Boy,
Japan,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mo-Dettes,
The Modern Lovers,
Derrick May,
Bob Dylan,
Delta 5,
The Gories,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Johnny Clarke,
The Gladiators,
Faust,
Masters at Work,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Mummies,
The Detroit Cobras,
Don Cherry,
Quantec,
Icehouse,
The Doors,
The Misunderstood,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Anthony Braxton,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Dave Clark Five,
Joey Negro,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Flesh Eaters,
Qualms,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Slackers,
Slick Rick,
The Birthday Party,
Crispian St. Peters,
Procol Harum,
Bang On A Can,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Grey Daturas,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Five Americans,
Todd Terry,
The Leaves,
Sixth Finger,
Bizarre Inc.,
Zero Boys,
Nik Kershaw,
Shoche,
L. Decosne,
Scott Walker,
Saccharine Trust,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.