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 San Marino and from Copenhagen.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 The Index to the grime 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gichy Dan,
La Düsseldorf,
Rosa Yemen,
Crispy Ambulance,
Yazoo,
Quadrant,
Visage,
The Mighty Diamonds,
MDC,
Basic Channel,
Max Romeo,
Sällskapet,
Pere Ubu,
Sun City Girls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Johnny Clarke,
Quando Quango,
Nirvana,
Godley & Creme,
The Seeds,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Boredoms,
Arthur Verocai,
The Gories,
Average White Band,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Icehouse,
Eric B and Rakim,
Camouflage,
Index,
Radiopuhelimet,
Technova,
Black Pus,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Crooked Eye,
Scan 7,
Junior Murvin,
Ultravox,
It's A Beautiful Day,
F. McDonald,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Anthony Braxton,
Gregory Isaacs,
Deepchord,
Wasted Youth,
Dead Boys,
Von Mondo,
Arab on Radar,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Mojo Men,
Saccharine Trust,
Echospace,
Banda Bassotti,
Radiohead,
Jimmy McGriff,
a-ha,
New York Dolls,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bobby Womack,
Eve St. Jones,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.