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 San Marino and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Letta Mbulu to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Radiopuhelimet. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
Fad Gadget,
This Heat,
The Dead C,
Black Sheep,
Erasure,
Mandrill,
Letta Mbulu,
Metal Thangz,
Funky Four + One,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Tres Demented,
Ludus,
Excepter,
Ice-T,
Q65,
Byron Stingily,
Sun Ra,
The Litter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The American Breed,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lalann,
Barry Ungar,
Brothers Johnson,
Tropical Tobacco,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Neu!,
Eden Ahbez,
Hardrive,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Wally Richardson,
Gang Starr,
Easy Going,
Maurizio,
Graham Central Station,
CMW,
Skaos,
Barclay James Harvest,
Wire,
Idris Muhammad,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
MDC,
Gang Gang Dance,
Black Moon,
Banda Bassotti,
Dennis Brown,
Kerri Chandler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crime,
The Pretty Things,
Sister Nancy,
Deadbeat,
Mad Mike,
The Barracudas,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wings,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Durutti Column,
Rekid,
Accadde A,
The Angels of Light,
Robert Wyatt,
Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection.
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.