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 Hungary and from Stockholm.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Seoul.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Erasure to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
Hot Snakes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lou Reed,
Nas,
Tom Boy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Curtis Mayfield,
Aloha Tigers,
Tears for Fears,
Kas Product,
Monks,
The Seeds,
Boz Scaggs,
Judy Mowatt,
Franke,
Sex Pistols,
Marshall Jefferson,
Desert Stars,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pylon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Moon,
Peter and Kerry,
Soulsonic Force,
Theoretical Girls,
Organ,
The Beau Brummels,
Dual Sessions,
Bush Tetras,
Stiv Bators,
The Residents,
Crime,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Sound,
Aural Exciters,
The Neon Judgement,
Hashim,
Flipper,
The Evens,
Lindisfarne,
Zapp,
Alice Coltrane,
Peter & Gordon,
E-Dancer,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Motions,
Cameo,
Bob Dylan,
Flash Fearless,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Red Krayola,
Wally Richardson,
Tommy Roe,
Andrew Hill,
Roxy Music,
Duran Duran,
The Raincoats,
Dennis Brown,
Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan.
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.