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 Yemen and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Marvin Gaye to the grunge 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 Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Tom Boy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Wally Richardson,
Godley & Creme,
The Human League,
The Gories,
The Wake,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Maurizio,
The Selecter,
Siglo XX,
Ponytail,
The Blackbyrds,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Country Teasers,
Bobby Womack,
Barrington Levy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mission of Burma,
Erasure,
Kool Moe Dee,
Accadde A,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bob Dylan,
Pylon,
The Zeros,
kango's stein massive,
Amon Düül,
Cymande,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Coltrane,
Half Japanese,
Gregory Isaacs,
Slave,
Bill Near,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lalo Schifrin,
Joensuu 1685,
Ludus,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Johnny Clarke,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Divine Comedy,
8 Eyed Spy,
Desert Stars,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pharoah Sanders,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Red Krayola,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Arthur Verocai,
Saccharine Trust,
Loose Ends,
Sixth Finger,
The Fire Engines,
The Slackers,
Rod Modell,
The Cure,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Thompson Twins,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.