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 Bahrain and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 güiro 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 The Fire Engines to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cameo,
Pierre Henry,
Desert Stars,
The Invisible,
Jacob Miller,
The Mummies,
Terrestrial Tones,
Godley & Creme,
Dark Day,
The Sound,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Q65,
Deakin,
Kaleidoscope,
Kool Moe Dee,
Moebius,
D'Angelo,
the Soft Cell,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Names,
Slick Rick,
Eli Mardock,
The Smiths,
Lee Hazlewood,
John Coltrane,
OOIOO,
Shuggie Otis,
X-Ray Spex,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scratch Acid,
K-Klass,
Slave,
Lakeside,
Con Funk Shun,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The New Christs,
Minnie Riperton,
The Moody Blues,
Eden Ahbez,
The Techniques,
The Index,
Harry Pussy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tommy Roe,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Byron Stingily,
Big Daddy Kane,
Little Man,
The Knickerbockers,
New York Dolls,
Das Ding,
Bush Tetras,
Ultravox,
Robert Hood,
Lightning Bolt,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Alton Ellis,
Hashim,
Boogie Down Productions,
London Community Gospel Choir, London Community Gospel Choir, London Community Gospel Choir, London Community Gospel Choir.
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.