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 Korea North and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Radio Birdman to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Peter & Gordon,
Symarip,
Alton Ellis,
Jerry's Kids,
Letta Mbulu,
Jeru the Damaja,
Duran Duran,
Rufus Thomas,
Swell Maps,
Fat Boys,
FM Einheit,
A Certain Ratio,
Blancmange,
Johnny Clarke,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nick Fraelich,
Arthur Verocai,
Barbara Tucker,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kaleidoscope,
The Buckinghams,
Fad Gadget,
Mission of Burma,
Crooked Eye,
Rites of Spring,
The Cowsills,
The Barracudas,
The Mojo Men,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Fatback Band,
Barry Ungar,
Sex Pistols,
Man Eating Sloth,
Camouflage,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eddi Front,
Faust,
Lucky Dragons,
Black Moon,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joey Negro,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Techniques,
Boz Scaggs,
Nico,
Basic Channel,
Organ,
Yusef Lateef,
Stiv Bators,
PIL,
The Residents,
Dark Day,
Gil Scott Heron,
Silicon Teens,
Jeff Mills,
Eve St. Jones,
The Moody Blues,
The Slits,
Ken Boothe,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.