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 South Sudan and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Sam Rivers to the techno 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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yusef Lateef,
the Slits,
Alison Limerick,
Schoolly D,
Bob Dylan,
Lakeside,
The Move,
Boz Scaggs,
The Victims,
Urselle,
Joy Division,
LL Cool J,
Bobbi Humphrey,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Freddie Wadling,
Jacob Miller,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Slackers,
Sparks,
Matthew Halsall,
China Crisis,
The Dirtbombs,
Fatback Band,
Magazine,
Sam Rivers,
R.M.O.,
The Cure,
Ronnie Foster,
the Bar-Kays,
Connie Case,
Public Enemy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Boredoms,
Black Bananas,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bush Tetras,
Don Cherry,
the Normal,
FM Einheit,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Red Krayola,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tommy Roe,
Q65,
The Smoke,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
La Düsseldorf,
Pole,
Make Up,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Seeds,
Erasure,
Ten City,
Easy Going,
The Fuzztones,
Eric B and Rakim,
Moby Grape,
Circle Jerks,
Ituana,
Sound Behaviour,
Dennis Brown,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.