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 Iran and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Blues Magoos to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Sunsets and Hearts,
F. McDonald,
Oneida,
Buzzcocks,
China Crisis,
The Gladiators,
Echospace,
Ossler,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Raincoats,
The Fugs,
The Litter,
Frankie Knuckles,
Spoonie Gee,
The Real Kids,
Carl Craig,
Althea and Donna,
Don Cherry,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pussy Galore,
KRS-One,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sex Pistols,
Camberwell Now,
Crooked Eye,
the Human League,
the Soft Cell,
The Tremeloes,
Sun Ra,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scratch Acid,
Q and Not U,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
MC5,
The Red Krayola,
The Gun Club,
Magazine,
OOIOO,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tubeway Army,
Adolescents,
Wasted Youth,
Big Daddy Kane,
Average White Band,
LL Cool J,
Pantaleimon,
Roger Hodgson,
Joy Division,
Eric Dolphy,
Brothers Johnson,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Selecter,
Country Teasers,
Roxy Music,
Donald Byrd,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.