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 Ghana and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Angels of Light to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
Banda Bassotti,
Mandrill,
Scrapy,
The Gladiators,
Bobby Womack,
Joey Negro,
Magma,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sandy B,
Brass Construction,
X-102,
Jeru the Damaja,
Brick,
Danielle Patucci,
Charles Mingus,
Sexual Harrassment,
Thompson Twins,
John Coltrane,
Gichy Dan,
Marine Girls,
Lebanon Hanover,
Barclay James Harvest,
Cybotron,
Ronnie Foster,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pagans,
Con Funk Shun,
KRS-One,
Outsiders,
Hashim,
Babytalk,
Chris Corsano,
Bang On A Can,
Patti Smith,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Brand Nubian,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Gap Band,
Robert Hood,
Gang of Four,
cv313,
Bush Tetras,
The Zeros,
Alton Ellis,
Marc Almond,
Henry Cow,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Infiniti,
Funkadelic,
Altered Images,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mark Hollis,
Parry Music,
Laurel Aitken,
Skarface,
Eden Ahbez,
Todd Terry,
Jacques Brel,
Adolescents,
Cluster,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.