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 Zambia and from London.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Leaves to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Harry Pussy,
Mo-Dettes,
The Victims,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cal Tjader,
Peter and Kerry,
The Dave Clark Five,
Schoolly D,
Radio Birdman,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pantaleimon,
Unwound,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Banda Bassotti,
the Germs,
Sparks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Carl Craig,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Youth Brigade,
The Searchers,
Quando Quango,
Idris Muhammad,
Wolf Eyes,
Letta Mbulu,
Janne Schatter,
The Divine Comedy,
Warren Ellis,
The Sonics,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pussy Galore,
Fugazi,
Model 500,
Ohio Players,
Alton Ellis,
Terry Callier,
La Düsseldorf,
Patti Smith,
Maleditus Sound,
Piero Umiliani,
The Fugs,
Bluetip,
The Wake,
Smog,
Pet Shop Boys,
Yazoo,
The Beau Brummels,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Liliput,
Angry Samoans,
Drexciya,
Kevin Saunderson,
Junior Murvin,
The Stooges,
Jacques Brel,
Andrew Hill,
Icehouse,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Zeros,
Tres Demented,
The Flesh Eaters,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.