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 Romania and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Mission of Burma 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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Brick,
Lebanon Hanover,
Nirvana,
X-101,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Sound,
Intrusion,
Unrelated Segments,
DNA,
cv313,
Pussy Galore,
Drexciya,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Leaves,
Lower 48,
Ken Boothe,
Flipper,
Dual Sessions,
Radiopuhelimet,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Slits,
Todd Terry,
Eric Copeland,
Judy Mowatt,
Susan Cadogan,
Angry Samoans,
Little Man,
Pantaleimon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Swans,
Faust,
Deakin,
Alice Coltrane,
Popol Vuh,
Ornette Coleman,
Arcadia,
E-Dancer,
Saccharine Trust,
Groovy Waters,
Ituana,
The Busters,
Minor Threat,
Lalann,
Procol Harum,
The Star Department,
Marmalade,
The Moleskins,
Tears for Fears,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eli Mardock,
Brass Construction,
Rekid,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tom Boy,
Gang Green,
Roy Ayers,
The Names,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.