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 India and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 JFA to the crunk 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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Roy Ayers,
John Foxx,
Ronan,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
MDC,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Prince Buster,
The Invisible,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
kango's stein massive,
Kaleidoscope,
EPMD,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Subhumans,
The Star Department,
Model 500,
Delta 5,
Unrelated Segments,
Spoonie Gee,
Bobby Womack,
Soft Machine,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bluetip,
Mad Mike,
Donny Hathaway,
Urselle,
Rakim,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Last Poets,
The Smiths,
Pussy Galore,
Wasted Youth,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Aaron Thompson,
The Mojo Men,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Misunderstood,
Sandy B,
Gil Scott Heron,
Blancmange,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Music Machine,
Altered Images,
Ash Ra Tempel,
DJ Style,
Interpol,
Gichy Dan,
Tres Demented,
The Five Americans,
The Gap Band,
Glenn Branca,
The Monks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lakeside,
Audionom,
Crime,
Chris Corsano,
Rekid,
The Moleskins,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.