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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 clarinet 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 Grey Daturas to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Pulsallama,
Lindisfarne,
Sister Nancy,
Minutemen,
The Knickerbockers,
Wire,
The Slits,
Vladislav Delay,
Bobby Womack,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Con Funk Shun,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sixth Finger,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Crime,
The Human League,
Outsiders,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Normal,
X-Ray Spex,
Juan Atkins,
Gastr Del Sol,
Toni Rubio,
Camouflage,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pantaleimon,
Warren Ellis,
Rotary Connection,
Dead Boys,
Funkadelic,
Yazoo,
Gerry Rafferty,
Radio Birdman,
Eurythmics,
The Grass Roots,
cv313,
John Lydon,
The New Christs,
Sparks,
U.S. Maple,
Shoche,
Donald Byrd,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rod Modell,
Roxette,
Sonny Sharrock,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Blues Magoos,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Severed Heads,
Fluxion,
Magma,
Michelle Simonal,
Dorothy Ashby,
Charles Mingus,
Scientists,
Underground Resistance,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nas,
Flipper,
Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan.
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.