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 Argentina and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 güiro 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 Aswad 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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe 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 clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
kango's stein massive,
OOIOO,
The Raincoats,
Dave Gahan,
Harry Pussy,
The Angels of Light,
Arab on Radar,
Freddie Wadling,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kurtis Blow,
The Knickerbockers,
The Busters,
The Victims,
Ice-T,
Tomorrow,
PIL,
Connie Case,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mandrill,
Moby Grape,
L. Decosne,
This Heat,
The Vogues,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ohio Players,
Rod Modell,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lucky Dragons,
The Evens,
The Fugs,
Jeff Mills,
Mars,
The Smiths,
Flipper,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bobby Byrd,
Jeff Lynne,
The Cramps,
The Trojans,
Tom Boy,
John Foxx,
Sarah Menescal,
The Doors,
Livin' Joy,
Funky Four + One,
Symarip,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Zero Boys,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kas Product,
X-Ray Spex,
Amazonics,
X-102,
Fatback Band,
Rotary Connection,
Oneida,
Bush Tetras,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.