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 Thailand and from Madrid.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the rock 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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shuggie Otis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
Funkadelic,
Neil Young,
The Toasters,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Anthony Braxton,
Judy Mowatt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Blackbyrds,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Selecter,
Gong,
Tommy Roe,
Q and Not U,
Sound Behaviour,
Janne Schatter,
Isaac Hayes,
JFA,
Swell Maps,
Youth Brigade,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cecil Taylor,
Ultravox,
Hasil Adkins,
Fela Kuti,
Rosa Yemen,
Skarface,
Lucky Dragons,
Con Funk Shun,
The Monochrome Set,
Ultimate Spinach,
Yellowson,
The Beau Brummels,
Cameo,
New York Dolls,
The Fire Engines,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Terry Callier,
Groovy Waters,
Electric Prunes,
Wings,
the Association,
John Coltrane,
The Moleskins,
R.M.O.,
OOIOO,
Blake Baxter,
Avey Tare,
Section 25,
John Foxx,
The Golliwogs,
Marmalade,
Stereo Dub,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ludus,
Archie Shepp,
Joyce Sims,
Lower 48,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.