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 Algeria and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the grime 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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Germs,
Pantaleimon,
Spandau Ballet,
Guru Guru,
New York Dolls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jawbox,
Sex Pistols,
Mad Mike,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Althea and Donna,
Yellowson,
The Pop Group,
Darondo,
Anakelly,
Warsaw,
Scrapy,
Aloha Tigers,
Visage,
AZ,
Nik Kershaw,
The Gun Club,
Kool Moe Dee,
Deadbeat,
Dual Sessions,
Nico,
Gastr Del Sol,
Agitation Free,
The United States of America,
Rotary Connection,
Lungfish,
Bobby Sherman,
Gang of Four,
Sonic Youth,
Sonny Sharrock,
Intrusion,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Litter,
Ornette Coleman,
Aaron Thompson,
Livin' Joy,
Heaven 17,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rekid,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sandy B,
The Raincoats,
Tommy Roe,
These Immortal Souls,
Urselle,
Black Bananas,
Joey Negro,
Junior Murvin,
Susan Cadogan,
Cecil Taylor,
The Five Americans,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Man Parrish,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Residents,
Procol Harum,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Blossom Toes,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.