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 Guinea-Bissau and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Jakarta.
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 arpeggiator 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 Man Parrish to the dance 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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Popol Vuh,
Jandek,
Wire,
Soft Machine,
The Names,
The Neon Judgement,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jesper Dahlback,
Motorama,
Make Up,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Red Krayola,
The Electric Prunes,
Unrelated Segments,
John Coltrane,
The Selecter,
Wings,
World's Most,
48th St. Collective,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cowsills,
Rapeman,
Franke,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Depeche Mode,
The Smoke,
X-102,
UT,
Maleditus Sound,
The Fall,
Surgeon,
Japan,
Public Image Ltd.,
Andrew Hill,
Kas Product,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
CMW,
Zapp,
Robert Hood,
David McCallum,
Nils Olav,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Marine Girls,
Swans,
Y Pants,
Gang of Four,
Eurythmics,
Radiohead,
Bob Dylan,
Donald Byrd,
The Divine Comedy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Faraquet,
Boz Scaggs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Roger Hodgson,
The Victims,
Barry Ungar,
Fatback Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
the Human League,
New York Dolls,
Bang On A Can,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.