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 Peru and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gil Scott Heron to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Jandek. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Matthew Bourne,
The Buckinghams,
Ronnie Foster,
B.T. Express,
Glambeats Corp.,
Piero Umiliani,
Kool Moe Dee,
Black Moon,
Pulsallama,
Pussy Galore,
Peter and Kerry,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Alarm Clocks,
Chrome,
Sonic Youth,
Hot Snakes,
Black Flag,
Judy Mowatt,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Mojo Men,
Smog,
Unrelated Segments,
Pole,
Chris Corsano,
Curtis Mayfield,
Excepter,
Byron Stingily,
Khruangbin,
In Retrospect,
Dead Boys,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Trojans,
New York Dolls,
Sugar Minott,
Skarface,
Bootsy Collins,
The Young Rascals,
Delta 5,
Arab on Radar,
The Smoke,
Joe Smooth,
Cameo,
Popol Vuh,
Eve St. Jones,
Absolute Body Control,
Intrusion,
Fugazi,
Unwound,
Blossom Toes,
Lou Christie,
Oneida,
The New Christs,
Juan Atkins,
Desert Stars,
The Residents,
Hoover,
Janne Schatter,
Scrapy,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.