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 Ethiopia and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 guitar 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 Unwound to the crunk 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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Mad Mike,
Graham Central Station,
China Crisis,
Robert Görl,
Con Funk Shun,
Flipper,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Freddie Wadling,
Sex Pistols,
Infiniti,
Hot Snakes,
Japan,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Beau Brummels,
D'Angelo,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Outsiders,
The Stooges,
Sun City Girls,
The Velvet Underground,
The Divine Comedy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Shuggie Otis,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Wake,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Drexciya,
Duran Duran,
Todd Rundgren,
The Real Kids,
Depeche Mode,
Boredoms,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eric Dolphy,
Rotary Connection,
Camouflage,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bobby Byrd,
Stereo Dub,
Young Marble Giants,
Soft Cell,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Prince Buster,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mission of Burma,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
AZ,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
David McCallum,
Dual Sessions,
John Foxx,
Section 25,
Fela Kuti,
Aural Exciters,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.