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 Afghanistan and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Accra.
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 Michael McDonald 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Nik Kershaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Negative Approach,
Matthew Halsall,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eric Dolphy,
Stetsasonic,
Talk Talk,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Blancmange,
E-Dancer,
Peter and Kerry,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
New York Dolls,
Tubeway Army,
Althea and Donna,
New Age Steppers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Mars,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Morten Harket,
Nico,
Agent Orange,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Hardrive,
JFA,
Janne Schatter,
Los Fastidios,
Pussy Galore,
LL Cool J,
Outsiders,
Ornette Coleman,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Skatalites,
Iggy Pop,
The Standells,
the Fania All-Stars,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Dual Sessions,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dennis Brown,
Mantronix,
Rod Modell,
the Germs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Boredoms,
Kerri Chandler,
The Selecter,
Suicide,
U.S. Maple,
Lindisfarne,
Gregory Isaacs,
Laurel Aitken,
The Dave Clark Five,
Mad Mike,
The Wake,
Y Pants,
The Knickerbockers,
Lower 48,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.