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 Gambia and from Milan.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 marimba 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 Electric Prunes to the punk 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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a cv313 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Knickerbockers,
Sandy B,
The Mighty Diamonds,
DJ Sneak,
Scion,
The Five Americans,
The Saints,
Black Bananas,
The Misunderstood,
Throbbing Gristle,
Faraquet,
Pagans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Johnny Clarke,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Chris Corsano,
The American Breed,
Y Pants,
Flipper,
Bill Wells,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scott Walker,
Avey Tare,
Eve St. Jones,
Malaria!,
Dual Sessions,
T. Rex,
Tubeway Army,
Hot Snakes,
The Dead C,
Soul Sonic Force,
Fear,
Lou Christie,
X-102,
Matthew Bourne,
T.S.O.L.,
Crooked Eye,
ABC,
The Seeds,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cameo,
John Foxx,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Magazine,
Marvin Gaye,
Ice-T,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Happenings,
Country Teasers,
The Fuzztones,
Stereo Dub,
Lebanon Hanover,
Motorama,
Spandau Ballet,
ABBA,
Depeche Mode,
Model 500,
Arab on Radar,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.