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 Slovakia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 guitar 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 Sonics to the electroclash 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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
X-Ray Spex,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ronnie Foster,
Reagan Youth,
Stereo Dub,
ABBA,
Hoover,
Talk Talk,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jacques Brel,
Donald Byrd,
Joyce Sims,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Motorama,
Vainqueur,
Sandy B,
D'Angelo,
Echospace,
The Smoke,
Moby Grape,
Lyres,
The Vogues,
Zapp,
Jerry's Kids,
Procol Harum,
Boredoms,
Andrew Hill,
Yazoo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Piero Umiliani,
Carl Craig,
Spoonie Gee,
Massinfluence,
Warren Ellis,
EPMD,
Essential Logic,
The Selecter,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pylon,
Excepter,
Wally Richardson,
Rosa Yemen,
Minnie Riperton,
The Sonics,
The Dead C,
June Days,
Minutemen,
The Five Americans,
The Blues Magoos,
Yellowson,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Human League,
DJ Sneak,
The Count Five,
Mantronix,
Stockholm Monsters,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.