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 Liechtenstein and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mumbai.
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 arpeggiator 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Gang Gang Dance,
Frankie Knuckles,
Smog,
48th St. Collective,
The Pop Group,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Grauzone,
Neil Young,
the Sonics,
Banda Bassotti,
Eric Copeland,
Das Ding,
The Star Department,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eli Mardock,
David McCallum,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Motions,
The Dave Clark Five,
Loose Ends,
Sällskapet,
Fat Boys,
cv313,
Cal Tjader,
Brick,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sam Rivers,
The Dead C,
Oblivians,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Brass Construction,
The Tremeloes,
Negative Approach,
Bill Wells,
Sandy B,
Khruangbin,
X-Ray Spex,
Johnny Clarke,
Fluxion,
Graham Central Station,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jeru the Damaja,
Boz Scaggs,
Cluster,
The Stooges,
The Doobie Brothers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Isaac Hayes,
Thompson Twins,
The Fire Engines,
T. Rex,
The Barracudas,
Josef K,
Sonny Sharrock,
Intrusion,
Pantaleimon,
Lower 48,
Sarah Menescal,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.