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 Seychelles and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Edmonton and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 guitar 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 The Residents to the dance 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 The Sonics. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Pantytec,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Severed Heads,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jacques Brel,
PIL,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Silicon Teens,
Roxy Music,
Stereo Dub,
Lungfish,
Television,
Smog,
Buzzcocks,
Outsiders,
New York Dolls,
Lou Reed,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cymande,
The Angels of Light,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Knickerbockers,
Parry Music,
Ronan,
Johnny Clarke,
Tommy Roe,
Prince Buster,
The Fortunes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Peter and Kerry,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Crime,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Roxette,
The Martian,
Fluxion,
Joey Negro,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Star Department,
Wolf Eyes,
Rites of Spring,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Liliput,
Visage,
Jeff Lynne,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Yusef Lateef,
Simply Red,
Quando Quango,
Scott Walker,
Siglo XX,
Blancmange,
Franke,
Lindisfarne,
the Bar-Kays,
Amon Düül,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Faust,
Pole,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.