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 Kiribati and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Robert Wyatt to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Groovy Waters. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Fire Engines,
Rakim,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rekid,
Grauzone,
The Fall,
La Düsseldorf,
The Tremeloes,
Jeff Lynne,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Porter Ricks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sandy B,
Fat Boys,
Chrome,
The Slits,
Severed Heads,
Dark Day,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Matthew Bourne,
Ludus,
10cc,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tres Demented,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eric Copeland,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dual Sessions,
Robert Wyatt,
The Zeros,
Pole,
Hot Snakes,
DJ Style,
Mission of Burma,
David Axelrod,
Q and Not U,
Ituana,
Bobby Byrd,
New Age Steppers,
Peter & Gordon,
B.T. Express,
Darondo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Spoonie Gee,
Duran Duran,
the Germs,
The Cure,
Drive Like Jehu,
Black Pus,
Ultravox,
Fad Gadget,
The Litter,
The Fugs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Beau Brummels,
The Smiths,
Toni Rubio,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.