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 New Zealand and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin 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 Stereo Dub to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tommy Roe. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Sällskapet,
Au Pairs,
The Smoke,
The Seeds,
Bush Tetras,
The Saints,
The Shadows of Knight,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Raincoats,
Derrick May,
The Toasters,
The Buckinghams,
Nils Olav,
Davy DMX,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marvin Gaye,
Rekid,
Freddie Wadling,
Alice Coltrane,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Darondo,
Fatback Band,
Suicide,
Scratch Acid,
The Residents,
The Slits,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Faraquet,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sex Pistols,
Buzzcocks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Surgeon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ituana,
Todd Rundgren,
Tom Boy,
Pere Ubu,
Cymande,
Symarip,
Lakeside,
Sandy B,
Liliput,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jacques Brel,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Black Bananas,
Chrome,
Carl Craig,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dawn Penn,
Von Mondo,
Metal Thangz,
Robert Wyatt,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Crooked Eye,
Bad Manners,
The Fugs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Icehouse,
Soft Machine,
Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt.
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.