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 Guyana and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Clear Light to the electroclash 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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
Skriet,
Brand Nubian,
Bobby Womack,
B.T. Express,
The Names,
Mandrill,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Litter,
David McCallum,
The Music Machine,
Alison Limerick,
Lebanon Hanover,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Country Teasers,
Stereo Dub,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pagans,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Monks,
Echospace,
Second Layer,
Nick Fraelich,
Q and Not U,
Black Flag,
Minnie Riperton,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Tremeloes,
Mars,
Babytalk,
Qualms,
The Gun Club,
Gang Starr,
Kevin Saunderson,
These Immortal Souls,
Lou Christie,
Maurizio,
Index,
Harry Pussy,
Steve Hackett,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jacques Brel,
Graham Central Station,
Ituana,
Quando Quango,
The Toasters,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pharoah Sanders,
Al Stewart,
Grauzone,
Harmonia,
Dawn Penn,
Derrick May,
Grey Daturas,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Visage,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
T.S.O.L.,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.