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 Chile and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 The Flesh Eaters to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Motorama,
Ken Boothe,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Sonics,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
John Lydon,
Sonny Sharrock,
T.S.O.L.,
Grauzone,
Faust,
Crispian St. Peters,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Brass Construction,
Young Marble Giants,
The Count Five,
Con Funk Shun,
The Leaves,
Josef K,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gregory Isaacs,
Roy Ayers,
Desert Stars,
Amon Düül,
Glambeats Corp.,
Stereo Dub,
Flipper,
Symarip,
Gil Scott Heron,
Minor Threat,
Moby Grape,
The Cure,
Steve Hackett,
Circle Jerks,
Susan Cadogan,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Beau Brummels,
Junior Murvin,
Massinfluence,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Joe Finger,
Q and Not U,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Modern Lovers,
Spoonie Gee,
Easy Going,
The Dead C,
The Move,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bill Wells,
Lyres,
Pere Ubu,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sight & Sound,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gang Gang Dance,
Suburban Knight,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Tremeloes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.