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 Korea South and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the 808 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 Barclay James Harvest to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grey Daturas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Spandau Ballet,
Nick Fraelich,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Andrew Hill,
Harry Pussy,
The Five Americans,
Sun Ra,
Gichy Dan,
June Days,
Siglo XX,
Crispy Ambulance,
Con Funk Shun,
Fat Boys,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Germs,
Bobby Sherman,
The Last Poets,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Aural Exciters,
Gong,
Nik Kershaw,
Man Eating Sloth,
Saccharine Trust,
Lightning Bolt,
Quadrant,
Sister Nancy,
Monolake,
Mission of Burma,
The Walker Brothers,
The Knickerbockers,
Zero Boys,
The Victims,
Q and Not U,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eric Copeland,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eve St. Jones,
Josef K,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Procol Harum,
Bauhaus,
Hoover,
Lou Christie,
Colin Newman,
Glenn Branca,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Chrome,
Country Teasers,
Cheater Slicks,
The Black Dice,
Drive Like Jehu,
Todd Rundgren,
Absolute Body Control,
Mars,
The Cramps,
Roger Hodgson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.