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 Liberia and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Star Department to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Gang Green,
the Bar-Kays,
Essential Logic,
Janne Schatter,
The Moleskins,
Ultra Naté,
Slave,
Gastr Del Sol,
Outsiders,
The Smoke,
OOIOO,
New Age Steppers,
Crooked Eye,
Sugar Minott,
Model 500,
Lou Christie,
Camouflage,
Deakin,
The Fuzztones,
Jeru the Damaja,
Alice Coltrane,
Excepter,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Invisible,
Hasil Adkins,
Gang of Four,
the Human League,
Q and Not U,
Guru Guru,
Ludus,
Hashim,
T.S.O.L.,
Brothers Johnson,
Boogie Down Productions,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Pus,
James White and The Blacks,
Pylon,
Skarface,
Eric Copeland,
The Buckinghams,
Metal Thangz,
Shuggie Otis,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Scan 7,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Groovy Waters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Wings,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Happenings,
Barclay James Harvest,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tommy Roe,
Quando Quango,
The Leaves,
Funkadelic,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ultravox,
Bobby Womack,
X-101,
Minny Pops,
Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra.
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.