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 Cambodia and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe 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 Organ to the grunge 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Human League,
Spandau Ballet,
Sex Pistols,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Dead C,
Crooked Eye,
Cameo,
Matthew Halsall,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Cure,
Fugazi,
World's Most,
David Axelrod,
Joey Negro,
The Last Poets,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gichy Dan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Index,
Siglo XX,
Josef K,
Lyres,
Soulsonic Force,
Desert Stars,
The Smoke,
Suicide,
Public Enemy,
Buzzcocks,
The Happenings,
Skaos,
Shuggie Otis,
Alice Coltrane,
Freddie Wadling,
Shoche,
Lakeside,
LL Cool J,
Neil Young,
The Human League,
Dawn Penn,
Organ,
Soul II Soul,
Barbara Tucker,
The Victims,
Sun Ra,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pantytec,
Cybotron,
Gerry Rafferty,
Byron Stingily,
X-102,
Amon Düül II,
Rotary Connection,
Absolute Body Control,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Reuben Wilson,
Ossler,
Icehouse,
Au Pairs,
F. McDonald,
Monks,
Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol.
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.