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 Grenada and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 B.T. Express to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Skatalites record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Mills,
Joy Division,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marc Almond,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Talk Talk,
Sam Rivers,
Ossler,
Electric Prunes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Pus,
Excepter,
The Five Americans,
David Bowie,
The Happenings,
the Normal,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marmalade,
Aaron Thompson,
Robert Görl,
Boz Scaggs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Yusef Lateef,
the Germs,
The Sound,
Stiv Bators,
The Standells,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Vogues,
The Seeds,
Camouflage,
The Evens,
X-102,
Skaos,
Make Up,
Sight & Sound,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Whodini,
Terry Callier,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cluster,
Porter Ricks,
Mad Mike,
Robert Hood,
Judy Mowatt,
Oblivians,
The Mummies,
Dead Boys,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Arcadia,
Royal Trux,
Warsaw,
Outsiders,
U.S. Maple,
The Black Dice,
Motorama,
Adolescents,
Henry Cow,
Surgeon,
The Zeros,
Scratch Acid,
Yellowson,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.