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 Comoros and from Accra.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Severed Heads to the grime 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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Leonard Cohen,
The Doobie Brothers,
Schoolly D,
The Count Five,
CMW,
Gang Green,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
New York Dolls,
Magma,
The Gun Club,
Black Flag,
James White and The Blacks,
Franke,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Sheep,
John Lydon,
Kenny Larkin,
The Vogues,
Suburban Knight,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Robert Hood,
Eve St. Jones,
Cecil Taylor,
Masters at Work,
Easy Going,
JFA,
Junior Murvin,
Arcadia,
Marmalade,
The Fortunes,
Swell Maps,
Morten Harket,
Echospace,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Carl Craig,
48th St. Collective,
Ossler,
Althea and Donna,
Eric Dolphy,
Fear,
Alice Coltrane,
Man Parrish,
Stockholm Monsters,
These Immortal Souls,
Alphaville,
Ice-T,
The Human League,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joe Finger,
Black Pus,
Boogie Down Productions,
Connie Case,
The Busters,
Altered Images,
Malaria!,
Grauzone,
Electric Prunes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lalann,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.