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 Samoa and from Johannesburg.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lille.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the marimba 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the grunge 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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Visage,
Camouflage,
X-101,
Skriet,
Sugar Minott,
Maurizio,
The Techniques,
Talk Talk,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Dave Clark Five,
Faraquet,
Simply Red,
the Bar-Kays,
Bang On A Can,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Unwound,
Crash Course in Science,
John Cale,
10cc,
Cecil Taylor,
Gil Scott Heron,
the Human League,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ultravox,
This Heat,
Bob Dylan,
Theoretical Girls,
Brick,
Flash Fearless,
Wolf Eyes,
Scan 7,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Misunderstood,
UT,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Carl Craig,
Rites of Spring,
Nation of Ulysses,
Silicon Teens,
Ohio Players,
The Tremeloes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobby Byrd,
Johnny Clarke,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eli Mardock,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Minny Pops,
Stetsasonic,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Erykah Badu,
China Crisis,
Chris Corsano,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David Bowie,
The Beau Brummels,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
David McCallum,
Underground Resistance,
Buzzcocks,
Dual Sessions,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.