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 Comoros and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lille.
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 Nile Rodgers 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 Fugazi to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yusef Lateef,
Ossler,
John Holt,
Boz Scaggs,
Scrapy,
David Bowie,
T. Rex,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Happenings,
Kurtis Blow,
Ultra Naté,
Ken Boothe,
Spoonie Gee,
10cc,
Lou Reed,
Susan Cadogan,
Hashim,
ABC,
The Dead C,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Byron Stingily,
Interpol,
The Wake,
The Gladiators,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Brand Nubian,
Loose Ends,
The Pop Group,
The Divine Comedy,
The Smiths,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bill Near,
Fat Boys,
Crash Course in Science,
Cheater Slicks,
Black Flag,
The Pretty Things,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bad Manners,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bauhaus,
Minnie Riperton,
Agitation Free,
Moebius,
The Fire Engines,
The Fall,
Josef K,
Hasil Adkins,
Pulsallama,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Motorama,
Max Romeo,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Soul II Soul,
Mad Mike,
Lakeside,
Aswad,
The Moleskins,
Letta Mbulu,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.