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 Comoros and from Philadelphia.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Searchers to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Harpers Bizarre tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Moebius,
The Dirtbombs,
The Kinks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ice-T,
Henry Cow,
The Young Rascals,
Y Pants,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Royal Trux,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Los Fastidios,
Scientists,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Thee Headcoats,
Tears for Fears,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Swans,
Bauhaus,
Bang On A Can,
Hoover,
X-Ray Spex,
Alice Coltrane,
kango's stein massive,
Symarip,
Subhumans,
Q65,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Searchers,
Derrick May,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kerri Chandler,
Mandrill,
Bobby Sherman,
The Doobie Brothers,
The J.B.'s,
Mark Hollis,
Joy Division,
Gang Gang Dance,
Flipper,
Bill Wells,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Remains,
Ludus,
Dave Gahan,
Harmonia,
Mission of Burma,
Sarah Menescal,
The Names,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Surgeon,
The Moleskins,
Neu!,
Oblivians,
Man Parrish,
Letta Mbulu,
Duran Duran,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
John Lydon,
Grauzone,
Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo.
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.