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 Rwanda and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lagos.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the 808 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 Sun City Girls to the punk 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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
Marc Almond,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
New York Dolls,
Scientists,
Traffic Nightmare,
Drexciya,
The Angels of Light,
Absolute Body Control,
The Neon Judgement,
Janne Schatter,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rekid,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Victims,
Oneida,
Brass Construction,
Depeche Mode,
Lindisfarne,
Gang Starr,
Barry Ungar,
Radio Birdman,
Sex Pistols,
Eli Mardock,
L. Decosne,
10cc,
Rod Modell,
The Gun Club,
Davy DMX,
Hoover,
LL Cool J,
Soul II Soul,
The Birthday Party,
Y Pants,
Harry Pussy,
Amon Düül,
T.S.O.L.,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Tropical Tobacco,
Inner City,
The Move,
the Germs,
The Selecter,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Cowsills,
Can,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Barracudas,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Offenders,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kas Product,
Max Romeo,
Matthew Bourne,
The Durutti Column,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bobby Womack,
Crime,
Aswad,
Stereo Dub,
Agent Orange,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.