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 Belize and from Tokyo.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Salvador.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Cramps to the crunk 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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Ossler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Clear Light,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marine Girls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Swell Maps,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Yazoo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Cure,
Shuggie Otis,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Grass Roots,
Neu!,
Curtis Mayfield,
Interpol,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Motions,
Simply Red,
the Germs,
Boz Scaggs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
World's Most,
Absolute Body Control,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sonic Youth,
Anthony Braxton,
Popol Vuh,
The Invisible,
Urselle,
Theoretical Girls,
The Buckinghams,
Lungfish,
June Days,
Jacob Miller,
The Durutti Column,
Goldenarms,
Flash Fearless,
Joe Finger,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Suburban Knight,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ossler,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Colin Newman,
Dawn Penn,
The Happenings,
Liliput,
Hot Snakes,
June of 44,
Scientists,
The Young Rascals,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ultra Naté,
The Stooges,
Soft Machine,
DNA,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.