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 Latvia and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Yaz,
Tears for Fears,
a-ha,
The Five Americans,
Todd Terry,
Public Image Ltd.,
John Cale,
Kenny Larkin,
Lou Reed,
Yellowson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Moon,
Angry Samoans,
Boogie Down Productions,
Soft Machine,
Stiv Bators,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Wake,
Isaac Hayes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
John Lydon,
Tropical Tobacco,
Neu!,
Gang Gang Dance,
La Düsseldorf,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mr. Review,
Todd Rundgren,
The Cowsills,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Throbbing Gristle,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Althea and Donna,
Fluxion,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Womack,
The Knickerbockers,
Circle Jerks,
Rod Modell,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Peter & Gordon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Human League,
Tubeway Army,
Pagans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Infiniti,
Cybotron,
The Fortunes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Letta Mbulu,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bluetip,
Ultra Naté,
Ronan,
Marmalade,
Aswad,
Camberwell Now,
Lucky Dragons,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.