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 Namibia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 808 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 the Fania All-Stars to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rekid,
Stockholm Monsters,
Masters at Work,
The Smiths,
the Fania All-Stars,
Suicide,
Kerri Chandler,
Franke,
Minnie Riperton,
The Dave Clark Five,
Make Up,
Joey Negro,
Eric Copeland,
Unrelated Segments,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Aaron Thompson,
Fat Boys,
Funkadelic,
Scott Walker,
Prince Buster,
Barclay James Harvest,
Quando Quango,
Camouflage,
Todd Rundgren,
Niagra,
Cal Tjader,
Cluster,
Ice-T,
Idris Muhammad,
Joe Finger,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Television,
Kurtis Blow,
Chrome,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sex Pistols,
Blake Baxter,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nation of Ulysses,
Roy Ayers,
Iggy Pop,
Tres Demented,
Excepter,
The Golliwogs,
The Leaves,
The Fugs,
James White and The Blacks,
Crime,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
DJ Sneak,
the Germs,
10cc,
The Monochrome Set,
The Seeds,
Ten City,
Peter and Kerry,
Big Daddy Kane,
X-Ray Spex,
Absolute Body Control,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.