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 Sri Lanka and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mumbai.
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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lyres to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monochrome Set record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Matthew Bourne,
Gabor Szabo,
Bill Wells,
Loose Ends,
Ultimate Spinach,
Scrapy,
Camouflage,
Crime,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sarah Menescal,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Skaos,
This Heat,
Negative Approach,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mo-Dettes,
Deakin,
Cluster,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Magma,
Desert Stars,
Oneida,
Frankie Knuckles,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Neon Judgement,
The Angels of Light,
Henry Cow,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Make Up,
Skriet,
Bobby Sherman,
Joe Finger,
Ornette Coleman,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bobby Byrd,
Hoover,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Toasters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Gun Club,
Barrington Levy,
The Moleskins,
The American Breed,
June of 44,
Fela Kuti,
Unrelated Segments,
Barbara Tucker,
LL Cool J,
Mad Mike,
Nick Fraelich,
MDC,
Rod Modell,
T. Rex,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Main Source,
Joey Negro,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ten City,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Hardrive,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.