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 Seychelles and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Rhythm & Sound to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ituana,
D'Angelo,
Animal Collective,
World's Most,
Boredoms,
Chris Corsano,
Sight & Sound,
Connie Case,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Fire Engines,
Morten Harket,
Iggy Pop,
Godley & Creme,
Y Pants,
Wally Richardson,
The Associates,
Electric Prunes,
The Cowsills,
Nirvana,
Eric Copeland,
The Knickerbockers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kas Product,
Marc Almond,
These Immortal Souls,
The Fortunes,
Pulsallama,
Royal Trux,
Heaven 17,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bad Manners,
Stetsasonic,
Sparks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Altered Images,
Underground Resistance,
Todd Terry,
Maleditus Sound,
The Buckinghams,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Fall,
Excepter,
Don Cherry,
Stereo Dub,
The Toasters,
Harry Pussy,
T. Rex,
Sound Behaviour,
Yaz,
Robert Hood,
Dawn Penn,
X-Ray Spex,
Ken Boothe,
Robert Görl,
U.S. Maple,
B.T. Express,
Au Pairs,
The Kinks,
the Soft Cell,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.