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 Bahrain and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 mellotron 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 Fela Kuti to the funk 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Slave,
Reagan Youth,
Pulsallama,
The Knickerbockers,
Warsaw,
Scientists,
Bizarre Inc.,
Magma,
Aural Exciters,
Todd Terry,
the Association,
Qualms,
Boz Scaggs,
The Durutti Column,
JFA,
Circle Jerks,
Young Marble Giants,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cecil Taylor,
Bluetip,
Eric Dolphy,
Kaleidoscope,
Faraquet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Evens,
Marc Almond,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kayak,
The Gun Club,
48th St. Collective,
the Slits,
Wasted Youth,
Excepter,
Index,
Underground Resistance,
Alphaville,
The Sonics,
Cybotron,
The Velvet Underground,
H. Thieme,
Barbara Tucker,
Sonic Youth,
Henry Cow,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Angels of Light,
Television,
The Invisible,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mad Mike,
Hardrive,
Marine Girls,
Make Up,
Neil Young,
The Toasters,
The Cramps,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.