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 Mongolia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Whodini to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Audionom tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bauhaus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Laurel Aitken,
Mandrill,
Negative Approach,
Rosa Yemen,
Warren Ellis,
The Smoke,
Black Flag,
48th St. Collective,
Crispy Ambulance,
Thee Headcoats,
DJ Style,
Warsaw,
Radiohead,
Gerry Rafferty,
The United States of America,
Eddi Front,
Godley & Creme,
Bronski Beat,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pierre Henry,
Lucky Dragons,
ABC,
Trumans Water,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Curtis Mayfield,
Avey Tare,
The Angels of Light,
Donny Hathaway,
Aloha Tigers,
Faust,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nirvana,
The Skatalites,
Supertramp,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lakeside,
Index,
Oblivians,
Sandy B,
Gil Scott Heron,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Swans,
Vainqueur,
Ornette Coleman,
Cymande,
The Sonics,
Minutemen,
Carl Craig,
Silicon Teens,
Black Bananas,
Inner City,
Fear,
Gang Starr,
Barclay James Harvest,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Remains,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.