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 Nigeria and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Ice-T to the grunge 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 The Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
The Fire Engines,
Suicide,
Roy Ayers,
The Five Americans,
Carl Craig,
DNA,
Siglo XX,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Arcadia,
The Young Rascals,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roxette,
The Fortunes,
The Durutti Column,
Adolescents,
The Fall,
Brothers Johnson,
Moebius,
Sam Rivers,
Crooked Eye,
Aaron Thompson,
Danielle Patucci,
Yusef Lateef,
Babytalk,
John Foxx,
The Dave Clark Five,
Cameo,
Don Cherry,
Mandrill,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ice-T,
Bootsy Collins,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lou Christie,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Sonics,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lucky Dragons,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eden Ahbez,
Severed Heads,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cal Tjader,
KRS-One,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Audionom,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Procol Harum,
Rites of Spring,
Donald Byrd,
Al Stewart,
Joy Division,
Young Marble Giants,
Alison Limerick,
Brick,
Eurythmics,
The Vogues,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.