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 Lebanon and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Clear Light to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Danielle Patucci. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Rosa Yemen,
Lindisfarne,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Blossom Toes,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Count Five,
Soft Cell,
The Cramps,
Albert Ayler,
Hot Snakes,
Radio Birdman,
Cal Tjader,
John Foxx,
World's Most,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Severed Heads,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Raincoats,
The Pretty Things,
Circle Jerks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ossler,
D'Angelo,
Ultravox,
The Offenders,
Idris Muhammad,
Alton Ellis,
The Gladiators,
The Neon Judgement,
Gil Scott Heron,
Radiopuhelimet,
X-102,
Graham Central Station,
Gong,
The Barracudas,
Quadrant,
The Residents,
Skriet,
The Dirtbombs,
In Retrospect,
E-Dancer,
Sight & Sound,
Soul II Soul,
Blancmange,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mad Mike,
The Moody Blues,
Vainqueur,
Angry Samoans,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Simply Red,
The Moleskins,
Shuggie Otis,
Joey Negro,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.