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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Los Fastidios 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
The Mojo Men,
Henry Cow,
The Selecter,
Delon & Dalcan,
Dual Sessions,
Thee Headcoats,
The Standells,
Roxette,
The Zeros,
Ultra Naté,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Scott Walker,
Joey Negro,
Derrick Morgan,
Monks,
X-101,
The Grass Roots,
The Invisible,
The Five Americans,
The Doors,
DJ Sneak,
Terrestrial Tones,
Wire,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Quantec,
Parry Music,
Albert Ayler,
Fela Kuti,
Lower 48,
The Count Five,
The Black Dice,
Byron Stingily,
Radiohead,
CMW,
The Modern Lovers,
The Happenings,
Absolute Body Control,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Chris Corsano,
Radio Birdman,
China Crisis,
Matthew Halsall,
Man Eating Sloth,
Don Cherry,
Young Marble Giants,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Graham Central Station,
The Toasters,
Jacob Miller,
Kas Product,
The Young Rascals,
Chris & Cosey,
Jawbox,
Faust,
Slick Rick,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Morten Harket,
Hot Snakes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Wings,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.