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 Monaco and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Erykah Badu to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Khruangbin,
The Doors,
10cc,
Sonny Sharrock,
Warsaw,
The Victims,
Fugazi,
Magma,
Little Man,
Rod Modell,
Black Sheep,
Deadbeat,
T. Rex,
Grey Daturas,
Von Mondo,
Tubeway Army,
Boredoms,
The Mojo Men,
Rakim,
Shuggie Otis,
Susan Cadogan,
The Residents,
the Association,
The Beau Brummels,
These Immortal Souls,
Wally Richardson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Goldenarms,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Fania All-Stars,
8 Eyed Spy,
Black Bananas,
Saccharine Trust,
Panda Bear,
Lakeside,
The Searchers,
David McCallum,
Sun Ra,
Peter and Kerry,
Scratch Acid,
John Coltrane,
Sun City Girls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Massinfluence,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Fad Gadget,
Surgeon,
Alphaville,
The Trojans,
The Standells,
Cecil Taylor,
Schoolly D,
Lungfish,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lebanon Hanover,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Whodini,
Mo-Dettes,
Andrew Hill,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.