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 Comoros and from Sao Paulo.
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 Copenhagen and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Martian to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Max Romeo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Tim Buckley,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kas Product,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ultimate Spinach,
Man Eating Sloth,
Spoonie Gee,
Lucky Dragons,
MDC,
B.T. Express,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Crime,
Scott Walker,
Angry Samoans,
The Blackbyrds,
Malaria!,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Section 25,
The Dirtbombs,
Interpol,
The Slits,
Wire,
Mission of Burma,
In Retrospect,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
X-101,
James White and The Blacks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Vladislav Delay,
8 Eyed Spy,
Yusef Lateef,
Rites of Spring,
Rod Modell,
Main Source,
Camberwell Now,
Loose Ends,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kenny Larkin,
Royal Trux,
Easy Going,
Jimmy McGriff,
Inner City,
Barbara Tucker,
Juan Atkins,
Absolute Body Control,
Ludus,
Flamin' Groovies,
John Coltrane,
Camouflage,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Cramps,
The Misunderstood,
The Cure,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Gun Club,
Andrew Hill,
Sight & Sound,
Metal Thangz,
The Techniques,
Derrick Morgan,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.