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 Kiribati and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 snare 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 Urselle to the disco 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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Underground Resistance 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Derrick May,
Stetsasonic,
Rotary Connection,
The Dead C,
Alice Coltrane,
Royal Trux,
The Star Department,
Circle Jerks,
Moby Grape,
Althea and Donna,
Ken Boothe,
Amazonics,
Drive Like Jehu,
Hasil Adkins,
Mark Hollis,
A Certain Ratio,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Cheater Slicks,
Archie Shepp,
Inner City,
Theoretical Girls,
Fat Boys,
Shoche,
The Gap Band,
Tres Demented,
Accadde A,
Absolute Body Control,
Easy Going,
Wire,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Brothers Johnson,
Drexciya,
Max Romeo,
The Fortunes,
Barbara Tucker,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Qualms,
B.T. Express,
Davy DMX,
The Moleskins,
Bronski Beat,
Sonic Youth,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Yellowson,
Lucky Dragons,
Joe Finger,
Sandy B,
Throbbing Gristle,
Todd Rundgren,
Peter and Kerry,
Tomorrow,
Oblivians,
Kenny Larkin,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kerrie Biddell,
Josef K,
Gang Green,
Guru Guru,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.