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 Korea South 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ten City to the jazz 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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All New Order tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bobby Womack,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lalo Schifrin,
John Lydon,
Wings,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Idris Muhammad,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dead Boys,
Stetsasonic,
The Offenders,
Lakeside,
Bobby Sherman,
Don Cherry,
Chrome,
Avey Tare,
Fela Kuti,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Banda Bassotti,
The Sonics,
Skriet,
Sexual Harrassment,
Los Fastidios,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The J.B.'s,
Tom Boy,
Wally Richardson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gang Starr,
The Fugs,
The Fire Engines,
Country Teasers,
Popol Vuh,
Dual Sessions,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Flipper,
Urselle,
The Flesh Eaters,
Matthew Halsall,
the Bar-Kays,
New Order,
Sixth Finger,
Max Romeo,
10cc,
Basic Channel,
The Cramps,
Ultravox,
James White and The Blacks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Steve Hackett,
Angry Samoans,
The Techniques,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.