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 South Sudan and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Duran Duran to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Groovy Waters. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agitation Free,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Connie Case,
Pole,
Throbbing Gristle,
Young Marble Giants,
The Smiths,
The Flesh Eaters,
Letta Mbulu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pulsallama,
Scott Walker,
Pagans,
Stiv Bators,
Warsaw,
The Standells,
Byron Stingily,
Minnie Riperton,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Pretty Things,
The Searchers,
D'Angelo,
Lalann,
Flash Fearless,
Sound Behaviour,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scion,
DJ Sneak,
Sun City Girls,
Radio Birdman,
X-Ray Spex,
The Associates,
Robert Görl,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Black Dice,
Youth Brigade,
John Holt,
Andrew Hill,
Siglo XX,
The Fall,
Fatback Band,
Neu!,
Schoolly D,
Bronski Beat,
Tim Buckley,
Gang Gang Dance,
Charles Mingus,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Leaves,
Sonny Sharrock,
Silicon Teens,
Country Teasers,
Scientists,
Jerry's Kids,
Rapeman,
Pussy Galore,
T. Rex,
Marcia Griffiths,
Todd Rundgren,
Kevin Saunderson,
B.T. Express,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.