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 Angola and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Iggy Pop,
Sällskapet,
Freddie Wadling,
The Selecter,
Sandy B,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Model 500,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Terry Callier,
Inner City,
The Beau Brummels,
The Litter,
Barry Ungar,
Rotary Connection,
In Retrospect,
Flipper,
Electric Prunes,
Desert Stars,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Henry Cow,
Roxy Music,
David McCallum,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Isaac Hayes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mojo Men,
Jeru the Damaja,
Byron Stingily,
Kayak,
The Detroit Cobras,
Cybotron,
Rhythm & Sound,
Marine Girls,
The Doors,
Eric Dolphy,
Matthew Halsall,
Matthew Bourne,
John Holt,
K-Klass,
Shuggie Otis,
Idris Muhammad,
Archie Shepp,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
EPMD,
The Buckinghams,
LL Cool J,
Gang Green,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bronski Beat,
Camouflage,
The Blackbyrds,
Minny Pops,
Nirvana,
Sex Pistols,
Dark Day,
Chrome,
Ralphi Rosario,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gang of Four,
Pantytec,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.