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 Costa Rica and from Lille.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 John Foxx to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alton Ellis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Malaria!,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Minny Pops,
Spoonie Gee,
Minnie Riperton,
David Bowie,
Altered Images,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Red Krayola,
Guru Guru,
Blake Baxter,
Pantaleimon,
the Normal,
Skarface,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Television,
The Skatalites,
The Moleskins,
Andrew Hill,
Wire,
The Electric Prunes,
Suicide,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Leaves,
Trumans Water,
Alice Coltrane,
Panda Bear,
Morten Harket,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Grass Roots,
Procol Harum,
Brick,
Second Layer,
Skaos,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Stockholm Monsters,
Black Bananas,
John Cale,
The Zeros,
UT,
Shoche,
Dark Day,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Flash Fearless,
H. Thieme,
Stiv Bators,
Duran Duran,
The Five Americans,
Brass Construction,
Can,
Man Parrish,
Aural Exciters,
The Associates,
Index,
Thompson Twins,
PIL,
Lindisfarne,
Fugazi,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.