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 Palau and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Vainqueur to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Freddie Wadling,
Sarah Menescal,
A Certain Ratio,
Babytalk,
the Bar-Kays,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Invisible,
Sound Behaviour,
Agent Orange,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Pus,
Procol Harum,
Hoover,
U.S. Maple,
B.T. Express,
Aswad,
The Move,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Popol Vuh,
Excepter,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wire,
The J.B.'s,
Simply Red,
Ponytail,
The Young Rascals,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Von Mondo,
The Birthday Party,
Althea and Donna,
Pole,
The Golliwogs,
Roxette,
The Blues Magoos,
DJ Sneak,
Roger Hodgson,
Quantec,
Eurythmics,
In Retrospect,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nils Olav,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
La Düsseldorf,
Zapp,
the Fania All-Stars,
Electric Prunes,
Amon Düül,
Japan,
Country Teasers,
Bobby Womack,
Massinfluence,
Moby Grape,
Scott Walker,
Oneida,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Association,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pagans,
Guru Guru,
Gang Green,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.