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 Pakistan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 clarinet 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 D'Angelo to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Ken Boothe,
Dark Day,
Adolescents,
June of 44,
Brothers Johnson,
David Bowie,
Joensuu 1685,
Curtis Mayfield,
Interpol,
Tears for Fears,
Neu!,
Supertramp,
Saccharine Trust,
Shoche,
ABBA,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
R.M.O.,
This Heat,
Alphaville,
Gang Starr,
Piero Umiliani,
Pussy Galore,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Chrome,
Joyce Sims,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Human League,
Lyres,
Minor Threat,
Eurythmics,
Negative Approach,
Roxy Music,
David McCallum,
Mark Hollis,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Offenders,
Slave,
The Blues Magoos,
Barclay James Harvest,
Motorama,
JFA,
Mars,
Lindisfarne,
Anthony Braxton,
Bad Manners,
The Pretty Things,
Terry Callier,
Throbbing Gristle,
Los Fastidios,
The Five Americans,
Maleditus Sound,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Camberwell Now,
Spandau Ballet,
Kerri Chandler,
Buzzcocks,
Infiniti,
The Durutti Column,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.