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 Vietnam and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every China Crisis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
The Five Americans,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Skatalites,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ralphi Rosario,
Basic Channel,
Scientists,
The Residents,
Magazine,
Moss Icon,
Hardrive,
Mission of Burma,
Graham Central Station,
Wally Richardson,
T. Rex,
Barry Ungar,
Sam Rivers,
Chris & Cosey,
10cc,
Ponytail,
Pylon,
Ronnie Foster,
Whodini,
Joyce Sims,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wings,
Crooked Eye,
The Martian,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Judy Mowatt,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Barbara Tucker,
Young Marble Giants,
Nick Fraelich,
Reuben Wilson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bluetip,
Boredoms,
Urselle,
Bobby Byrd,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Piero Umiliani,
The Angels of Light,
Delta 5,
Vladislav Delay,
the Soft Cell,
Das Ding,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bush Tetras,
Robert Hood,
Von Mondo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.