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 Liberia and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Last Poets to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bronski Beat,
Avey Tare,
Livin' Joy,
New York Dolls,
Joy Division,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Angels of Light,
Delta 5,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tubeway Army,
Eurythmics,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Masters at Work,
Derrick May,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Pop Group,
Excepter,
Bauhaus,
Joey Negro,
Ornette Coleman,
Suburban Knight,
Jacob Miller,
Girls At Our Best!,
Von Mondo,
Fela Kuti,
Pole,
Flipper,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mad Mike,
Sister Nancy,
Ituana,
Symarip,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Accadde A,
Dead Boys,
The Star Department,
Lightning Bolt,
Soul II Soul,
World's Most,
DNA,
Johnny Clarke,
The Happenings,
Andrew Hill,
Neil Young,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Warsaw,
David McCallum,
Faust,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Monochrome Set,
Unrelated Segments,
Gil Scott Heron,
10cc,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Radiopuhelimet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Angry Samoans,
June of 44,
Tomorrow,
Josef K,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.