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 Gambia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 synthesizer 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 Chris Corsano to the techno 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Yellowson,
Davy DMX,
Marcia Griffiths,
Todd Rundgren,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Invisible,
Pere Ubu,
The Leaves,
Arthur Verocai,
U.S. Maple,
Cymande,
Toni Rubio,
Tim Buckley,
Barrington Levy,
Robert Wyatt,
Qualms,
Brand Nubian,
The Young Rascals,
Aswad,
Steve Hackett,
R.M.O.,
Gichy Dan,
John Coltrane,
Flash Fearless,
Heaven 17,
Dorothy Ashby,
Warsaw,
Sun Ra,
Duran Duran,
Black Flag,
The Star Department,
The Cure,
The Slits,
Cameo,
June of 44,
Funky Four + One,
The Walker Brothers,
Moss Icon,
Metal Thangz,
Magazine,
The Stooges,
The Pop Group,
The Red Krayola,
Mantronix,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ice-T,
Magma,
Public Enemy,
Robert Görl,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Anthony Braxton,
Drive Like Jehu,
Isaac Hayes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Oneida,
Los Fastidios,
Patti Smith,
KRS-One,
Lalann,
The Pretty Things,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.