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 Portugal and from Taipei.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Porter Ricks to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roger Hodgson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ten City,
Harmonia,
Hasil Adkins,
Deepchord,
The New Christs,
Eve St. Jones,
OOIOO,
The Barracudas,
the Germs,
The Names,
Main Source,
Vainqueur,
Bobby Womack,
Dawn Penn,
Tim Buckley,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Alice Coltrane,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Moss Icon,
Mission of Burma,
Fort Wilson Riot,
ABBA,
Metal Thangz,
John Foxx,
Pole,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Trojans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
FM Einheit,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lebanon Hanover,
MC5,
Flamin' Groovies,
Easy Going,
Black Pus,
Angry Samoans,
The Stooges,
Stetsasonic,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Fluxion,
Rapeman,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Skarface,
Moebius,
Flash Fearless,
Kenny Larkin,
Reuben Wilson,
Johnny Clarke,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Saccharine Trust,
Sparks,
Yellowson,
Tomorrow,
Isaac Hayes,
Grey Daturas,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.