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 El Salvador and from London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gladiators to the grunge 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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
The Neon Judgement,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sonic Youth,
Nirvana,
A Certain Ratio,
The Cure,
The United States of America,
OOIOO,
Minny Pops,
K-Klass,
Moby Grape,
the Germs,
Mr. Review,
Nils Olav,
The Zeros,
Japan,
Eve St. Jones,
Angry Samoans,
The Moody Blues,
Neil Young,
The Residents,
Youth Brigade,
Kaleidoscope,
Anakelly,
Quantec,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Smoke,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Mummies,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scratch Acid,
Blancmange,
Sister Nancy,
Mark Hollis,
T. Rex,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mission of Burma,
ABC,
Tom Boy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Goldenarms,
June of 44,
Janne Schatter,
Kerri Chandler,
The Slackers,
The Sonics,
Ohio Players,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Terrestrial Tones,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Excepter,
Bauhaus,
The Star Department,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
John Lydon,
The Names,
Parry Music,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.