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 Czech Republic and from Paris.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 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 The Smoke to the rock 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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lungfish,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ponytail,
Television,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pussy Galore,
The Barracudas,
the Soft Cell,
Cal Tjader,
Minny Pops,
Icehouse,
Banda Bassotti,
Nico,
Crispy Ambulance,
Archie Shepp,
The New Christs,
Boogie Down Productions,
Spandau Ballet,
Bootsy Collins,
Piero Umiliani,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kayak,
Index,
Jeff Lynne,
Jacob Miller,
The Standells,
Godley & Creme,
Crash Course in Science,
Duran Duran,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ronan,
Marcia Griffiths,
Neu!,
Brick,
Josef K,
Angry Samoans,
Junior Murvin,
Clear Light,
Grauzone,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lindisfarne,
Marshall Jefferson,
Derrick Morgan,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Monks,
Cameo,
John Holt,
Los Fastidios,
Public Enemy,
Cymande,
Avey Tare,
The Blues Magoos,
Funky Four + One,
The Trojans,
The Sonics,
Idris Muhammad,
Second Layer,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Barbara Tucker,
Tubeway Army,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.