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 Paraguay and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Peter and Kerry to the jazz 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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Roger Hodgson,
David Axelrod,
The Birthday Party,
Zero Boys,
Mission of Burma,
Masters at Work,
Alphaville,
Wally Richardson,
Young Marble Giants,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Supertramp,
Tres Demented,
The Barracudas,
Theoretical Girls,
Delon & Dalcan,
Cluster,
Surgeon,
A Certain Ratio,
The Raincoats,
Robert Wyatt,
the Bar-Kays,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sonic Youth,
Bluetip,
Soul Sonic Force,
Judy Mowatt,
The Names,
Clear Light,
Au Pairs,
The Star Department,
Eric Dolphy,
Juan Atkins,
The Wake,
Marshall Jefferson,
T. Rex,
Shoche,
Make Up,
Radiohead,
Rekid,
Simply Red,
Dark Day,
Eve St. Jones,
Fat Boys,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Roxy Music,
Suburban Knight,
The Sound,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pantaleimon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Darondo,
Kerri Chandler,
Los Fastidios,
Ponytail,
Girls At Our Best!,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Trojans,
Blossom Toes,
H. Thieme,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.