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 Latvia and from Beijing.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 güiro 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 Franke to the grunge 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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
Sex Pistols,
These Immortal Souls,
John Holt,
Make Up,
Pantytec,
La Düsseldorf,
X-102,
Chris Corsano,
Joyce Sims,
Radio Birdman,
Babytalk,
Sandy B,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joe Finger,
The Evens,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Reagan Youth,
The Index,
Roger Hodgson,
Joe Smooth,
Visage,
UT,
Bush Tetras,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Cabaret Voltaire,
MDC,
DJ Sneak,
Nas,
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Pus,
Tomorrow,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jandek,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Moleskins,
Ponytail,
Nick Fraelich,
Leonard Cohen,
Brass Construction,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kayak,
Stiv Bators,
Thompson Twins,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Arab on Radar,
Jacques Brel,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Robert Wyatt,
Jimmy McGriff,
Vladislav Delay,
Terrestrial Tones,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Normal,
U.S. Maple,
Sister Nancy,
JFA,
Tropical Tobacco,
Black Flag,
Pussy Galore,
Alphaville,
This Heat,
Quadrant,
In Retrospect,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.