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 Zambia and from Halifax.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Beijing.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Lalann to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
The American Breed,
Mandrill,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Selecter,
Y Pants,
Mark Hollis,
Archie Shepp,
Procol Harum,
Lalo Schifrin,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
KRS-One,
Gang Green,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Bar-Kays,
The Velvet Underground,
Graham Central Station,
The Monks,
Accadde A,
Warsaw,
Moby Grape,
Mantronix,
Sun Ra,
ABC,
China Crisis,
Glenn Branca,
Metal Thangz,
Joey Negro,
Lower 48,
Derrick Morgan,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Human League,
Albert Ayler,
The Happenings,
Morten Harket,
Inner City,
The Blues Magoos,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Echospace,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gerry Rafferty,
Wally Richardson,
The Divine Comedy,
Schoolly D,
Mars,
MDC,
Tubeway Army,
Sexual Harrassment,
Marcia Griffiths,
Liliput,
Black Flag,
Junior Murvin,
Can,
The Moody Blues,
New York Dolls,
James White and The Blacks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Stiv Bators,
Mr. Review,
Television Personalities,
Pet Shop Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci.
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.