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 and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Glasgow.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Royal Family And The Poor to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Anakelly,
the Normal,
Lightning Bolt,
Motorama,
Talk Talk,
Max Romeo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Spoonie Gee,
Skarface,
Los Fastidios,
Slick Rick,
Aswad,
The Dead C,
Moss Icon,
Mark Hollis,
FM Einheit,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
ABC,
Barrington Levy,
Tres Demented,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lucky Dragons,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Country Teasers,
Bauhaus,
Index,
Nick Fraelich,
The Happenings,
Minor Threat,
Bill Near,
David Bowie,
Lindisfarne,
the Fania All-Stars,
Morten Harket,
R.M.O.,
Ronnie Foster,
Au Pairs,
The Smiths,
John Cale,
Henry Cow,
John Coltrane,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Crime,
Goldenarms,
T.S.O.L.,
Ronan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Panda Bear,
Sonic Youth,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Massinfluence,
Wings,
Sam Rivers,
Darondo,
Faraquet,
James White and The Blacks,
Iggy Pop,
10cc,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.