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 San Marino 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Madrid.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the grunge 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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
Oneida,
Unwound,
Bang On A Can,
Skaos,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jacob Miller,
Duran Duran,
Black Bananas,
Sound Behaviour,
Sonic Youth,
Flipper,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
B.T. Express,
Jacques Brel,
Angry Samoans,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Brothers Johnson,
Stetsasonic,
Little Man,
Robert Görl,
Underground Resistance,
The Names,
Kayak,
Faust,
Janne Schatter,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bill Near,
Goldenarms,
Sun City Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Susan Cadogan,
Malaria!,
Spoonie Gee,
Parry Music,
Swell Maps,
Monks,
Organ,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sparks,
David Bowie,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sight & Sound,
The Neon Judgement,
Royal Trux,
Scion,
The Residents,
Jawbox,
Steve Hackett,
Von Mondo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Derrick May,
Arthur Verocai,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wally Richardson,
John Cale,
Tommy Roe,
Man Eating Sloth,
Aswad,
Gong,
The Electric Prunes,
Inner City,
Rhythm & Sound,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.