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 Panama and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Babytalk to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unrelated Segments,
Sister Nancy,
Camouflage,
Pole,
Technova,
The Toasters,
The Tremeloes,
Fat Boys,
The Kinks,
Bobby Byrd,
Crispian St. Peters,
World's Most,
Rosa Yemen,
Whodini,
Dark Day,
Eric Dolphy,
Slave,
Ohio Players,
Sällskapet,
The Sonics,
Charles Mingus,
Symarip,
Ossler,
Babytalk,
Ponytail,
The Wake,
Erykah Badu,
Guru Guru,
The Mummies,
Wings,
Cybotron,
Roger Hodgson,
48th St. Collective,
The Martian,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dennis Brown,
Yaz,
Gang of Four,
Half Japanese,
Anthony Braxton,
The Last Poets,
The Names,
Sun Ra,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Tommy Roe,
Jeff Lynne,
T.S.O.L.,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fatback Band,
Sonny Sharrock,
Hashim,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Duran Duran,
Rekid,
the Sonics,
K-Klass,
Slick Rick,
The Moleskins,
Ten City,
Grauzone,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.