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 Bahrain and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 Calgary and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 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 the Germs to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
The Gladiators,
Heaven 17,
the Fania All-Stars,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fad Gadget,
Gang Green,
David Bowie,
Ornette Coleman,
The Remains,
The Monks,
Aswad,
Barbara Tucker,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Liliput,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Prince Buster,
Amon Düül II,
The Neon Judgement,
The Fire Engines,
The J.B.'s,
Bush Tetras,
Pharoah Sanders,
a-ha,
The Birthday Party,
The Young Rascals,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Davy DMX,
Kerri Chandler,
Magazine,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sparks,
Black Moon,
Y Pants,
Rakim,
Lower 48,
Todd Rundgren,
The Pretty Things,
Nas,
Interpol,
Icehouse,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Monochrome Set,
Pantytec,
Josef K,
Suburban Knight,
Minor Threat,
Gerry Rafferty,
MDC,
Monks,
Lungfish,
Wasted Youth,
Crash Course in Science,
Thee Headcoats,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Susan Cadogan,
The Wake,
Skriet,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Archie Shepp,
Derrick May,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.