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 Chile and from Houston.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bremen.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Public Image Ltd. to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
KRS-One,
Jesper Dahlback,
Oblivians,
The Walker Brothers,
Soul II Soul,
Black Sheep,
Stockholm Monsters,
Roger Hodgson,
Index,
Scott Walker,
Sound Behaviour,
the Human League,
Crooked Eye,
The United States of America,
Cecil Taylor,
Dawn Penn,
Marc Almond,
Ken Boothe,
Gang Gang Dance,
Visage,
Basic Channel,
Man Parrish,
Hot Snakes,
a-ha,
Brand Nubian,
X-Ray Spex,
Barclay James Harvest,
ABC,
The Searchers,
The Victims,
The Smiths,
The Index,
The Alarm Clocks,
Au Pairs,
Tomorrow,
Jimmy McGriff,
Electric Prunes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Moby Grape,
Letta Mbulu,
Andrew Hill,
Spandau Ballet,
Marine Girls,
Kevin Saunderson,
Robert Wyatt,
The Divine Comedy,
Bobby Womack,
The Invisible,
Flash Fearless,
Masters at Work,
Tubeway Army,
The Standells,
Grandmaster Flash,
Derrick May,
Loose Ends,
CMW,
Ultimate Spinach,
Scan 7,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Darondo,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.