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 Spain and from Lyon.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Lou Reed 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 Henry Cow to the grime 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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ohio Players,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pere Ubu,
Pole,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Derrick Morgan,
Fatback Band,
Hardrive,
Kurtis Blow,
R.M.O.,
Lou Christie,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Selecter,
DJ Sneak,
Lalann,
Zapp,
Zero Boys,
The Red Krayola,
The New Christs,
Aloha Tigers,
Girls At Our Best!,
One Last Wish,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cheater Slicks,
Joe Smooth,
Nils Olav,
Radio Birdman,
Black Moon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Iggy Pop,
Anthony Braxton,
Gang Green,
The American Breed,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
K-Klass,
The Mojo Men,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Agent Orange,
Angry Samoans,
Blossom Toes,
Tears for Fears,
The Gladiators,
Tres Demented,
Moebius,
Peter and Kerry,
This Heat,
Suburban Knight,
Leonard Cohen,
Fear,
Rufus Thomas,
Dark Day,
The Standells,
Mars,
The Slits,
Brand Nubian,
Skaos,
Ituana,
Monolake,
Crooked Eye,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.