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 Tuvalu and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Seeds to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monochrome Set 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins 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?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Hardrive,
The Victims,
Dave Gahan,
Warren Ellis,
Livin' Joy,
Inner City,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Surgeon,
The Five Americans,
Glambeats Corp.,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nas,
Moebius,
The American Breed,
OOIOO,
The Stooges,
Mad Mike,
The Vogues,
Soulsonic Force,
Duran Duran,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Velvet Underground,
Radio Birdman,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Moss Icon,
Henry Cow,
The Cure,
the Association,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sexual Harrassment,
a-ha,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Grauzone,
The Doors,
The United States of America,
Todd Terry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Skarface,
Simply Red,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Martian,
Severed Heads,
Sun City Girls,
Ultra Naté,
Funkadelic,
48th St. Collective,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
James White and The Blacks,
Camberwell Now,
Scrapy,
Sam Rivers,
Blossom Toes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tommy Roe,
The Dead C,
World's Most,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Newcleus,
Eric B and Rakim,
Peter & Gordon,
Don Cherry,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.