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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Sam Rivers to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sonics. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
Toni Rubio,
Black Pus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
EPMD,
The Buckinghams,
Rotary Connection,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Public Enemy,
The Fuzztones,
Index,
Marvin Gaye,
Massinfluence,
Juan Atkins,
Kool Moe Dee,
World's Most,
PIL,
Thee Headcoats,
Minny Pops,
Scion,
Inner City,
Hashim,
Sound Behaviour,
Flamin' Groovies,
Deepchord,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Graham Central Station,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Quadrant,
Patti Smith,
H. Thieme,
The Count Five,
Loose Ends,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Real Kids,
Ponytail,
Pussy Galore,
Con Funk Shun,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bill Near,
UT,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Main Source,
Grauzone,
Josef K,
Sarah Menescal,
Average White Band,
Tommy Roe,
Lee Hazlewood,
Flipper,
John Foxx,
The Neon Judgement,
The Slits,
Bob Dylan,
The Velvet Underground,
Nas,
Aaron Thompson,
Quando Quango,
Pantytec,
Sam Rivers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Arcadia,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.