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 Denmark and from Copenhagen.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Velvet Underground to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Reagan Youth,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sandy B,
Nation of Ulysses,
Eli Mardock,
New Order,
The Monks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Trojans,
Amazonics,
Fluxion,
Gerry Rafferty,
T. Rex,
Con Funk Shun,
Crispian St. Peters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Joey Negro,
Mantronix,
K-Klass,
Theoretical Girls,
The United States of America,
Mr. Review,
Interpol,
Letta Mbulu,
D'Angelo,
Subhumans,
Andrew Hill,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ornette Coleman,
Fat Boys,
Thompson Twins,
This Heat,
Hot Snakes,
The Wake,
Grandmaster Flash,
Derrick Morgan,
Television,
DJ Sneak,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
La Düsseldorf,
Ash Ra Tempel,
UT,
Gong,
Harmonia,
Porter Ricks,
Kurtis Blow,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kayak,
The Moleskins,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Excepter,
Skaos,
Mo-Dettes,
the Bar-Kays,
Cymande,
Chrome,
Patti Smith,
The Last Poets,
Ludus,
Cal Tjader,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.