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 Lithuania and from Manchester.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bar-Kays to the electroclash 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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Standells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Animal Collective,
Duran Duran,
Neu!,
Robert Wyatt,
Suicide,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ultravox,
Hasil Adkins,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Judy Mowatt,
Negative Approach,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Fuzztones,
Yusef Lateef,
Eddi Front,
Ultra Naté,
Matthew Bourne,
Robert Hood,
Sällskapet,
Mo-Dettes,
The Smoke,
Kool Moe Dee,
Echospace,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Walker Brothers,
Pussy Galore,
B.T. Express,
Wings,
Yellowson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mark Hollis,
Model 500,
Nation of Ulysses,
Country Teasers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Das Ding,
Qualms,
Chris & Cosey,
Lindisfarne,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Josef K,
Harmonia,
Index,
Yaz,
Pylon,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Grass Roots,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Beau Brummels,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tubeway Army,
Fear,
The Real Kids,
Alphaville,
Moebius,
Gregory Isaacs,
Black Pus,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sight & Sound,
Silicon Teens,
Fela Kuti,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.