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 Jordan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Don Cherry to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alton Ellis,
Piero Umiliani,
Desert Stars,
Dawn Penn,
Country Teasers,
The Dead C,
Lyres,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
Spoonie Gee,
Flipper,
The Dave Clark Five,
Moss Icon,
Cluster,
The Techniques,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Trojans,
Fluxion,
Ultravox,
The Moody Blues,
Matthew Bourne,
Nas,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sarah Menescal,
Tom Boy,
Audionom,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Cal Tjader,
Skaos,
Peter and Kerry,
Ten City,
Marmalade,
Patti Smith,
Swell Maps,
Outsiders,
10cc,
These Immortal Souls,
New Order,
ABBA,
The American Breed,
The Monks,
the Human League,
Intrusion,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Star Department,
China Crisis,
Quantec,
Man Eating Sloth,
Quando Quango,
Prince Buster,
Terrestrial Tones,
Y Pants,
Byron Stingily,
Chrome,
Rod Modell,
Soul II Soul,
The Fugs,
Skarface,
The New Christs,
Altered Images,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.