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 Uzbekistan 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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cure to the rock 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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Bill Wells,
The Last Poets,
Whodini,
Blake Baxter,
T. Rex,
Smog,
The Barracudas,
The Index,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eve St. Jones,
Cluster,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Al Stewart,
Mantronix,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cecil Taylor,
Godley & Creme,
Cymande,
Wolf Eyes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Star Department,
The Smoke,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Drexciya,
The Cramps,
Section 25,
Bobby Sherman,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kool Moe Dee,
Infiniti,
Duran Duran,
This Heat,
The Buckinghams,
Ice-T,
The Gap Band,
Goldenarms,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Dave Clark Five,
Alton Ellis,
Arab on Radar,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Slackers,
the Soft Cell,
FM Einheit,
New Age Steppers,
Mandrill,
Monolake,
Warren Ellis,
Quando Quango,
Radio Birdman,
Kenny Larkin,
Supertramp,
the Sonics,
Flipper,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
June Days,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Names,
The Gladiators,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.