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 Comoros and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Skarface to the rap 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All MC5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Halsall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
Brand Nubian,
Aloha Tigers,
The Neon Judgement,
Bad Manners,
Absolute Body Control,
Ludus,
Sight & Sound,
Drexciya,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
K-Klass,
The New Christs,
Yazoo,
Sex Pistols,
Spandau Ballet,
The J.B.'s,
Crime,
Donald Byrd,
Kenny Larkin,
Minutemen,
Tres Demented,
The Raincoats,
UT,
The Saints,
The Knickerbockers,
B.T. Express,
OOIOO,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Monolake,
Colin Newman,
The Vogues,
Radiohead,
Desert Stars,
Livin' Joy,
Gabor Szabo,
Todd Rundgren,
Oblivians,
Au Pairs,
Roxette,
The Happenings,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Selecter,
Scientists,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Busters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Don Cherry,
Gregory Isaacs,
Swans,
Lower 48,
La Düsseldorf,
The Modern Lovers,
Kurtis Blow,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Searchers,
Soul II Soul,
The Cosmic Jokers,
DJ Sneak,
John Cale,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.