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 Iceland and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Bremen.
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 spring reverb 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 Ronnie Foster to the rap 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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Tres Demented,
Joyce Sims,
kango's stein massive,
Albert Ayler,
Hasil Adkins,
The Five Americans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Maleditus Sound,
Warren Ellis,
Letta Mbulu,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pere Ubu,
Crash Course in Science,
Desert Stars,
Altered Images,
Echospace,
K-Klass,
Marmalade,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ultra Naté,
Television,
Quadrant,
Groovy Waters,
Harmonia,
The Black Dice,
Cameo,
Von Mondo,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Fluxion,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rotary Connection,
The Walker Brothers,
Glenn Branca,
Joe Finger,
X-102,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Subhumans,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
James White and The Blacks,
Malaria!,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Matthew Halsall,
The Standells,
Wire,
Bobby Byrd,
Terrestrial Tones,
Young Marble Giants,
Deadbeat,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Last Poets,
John Cale,
Robert Wyatt,
Kool Moe Dee,
R.M.O.,
Bush Tetras,
Magma,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Sonics,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.