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 Guyana and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Royal Trux to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust 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 spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Don Cherry,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Roy Ayers,
Procol Harum,
Lyres,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Suicide,
Erasure,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gang Gang Dance,
Technova,
Severed Heads,
Bizarre Inc.,
Erykah Badu,
Man Parrish,
Wire,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gabor Szabo,
Dark Day,
Jacques Brel,
cv313,
the Association,
Newcleus,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
One Last Wish,
Jeff Lynne,
Buzzcocks,
Pierre Henry,
Marcia Griffiths,
Massinfluence,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Detroit Cobras,
Terry Callier,
Brick,
F. McDonald,
The Knickerbockers,
Cheater Slicks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Scrapy,
Minnie Riperton,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Angels of Light,
Audionom,
Lower 48,
The Real Kids,
Adolescents,
Warsaw,
Slave,
Kerri Chandler,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
David Bowie,
The Standells,
Symarip,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bauhaus,
Stereo Dub,
The Toasters,
Cecil Taylor,
Harry Pussy,
Interpol,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.