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 Haiti and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Jacob Miller 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tears for Fears,
Max Romeo,
David Bowie,
The Leaves,
The Saints,
Dorothy Ashby,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ronan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Josef K,
Sister Nancy,
Isaac Hayes,
The Misunderstood,
Althea and Donna,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Camouflage,
The Wake,
Suicide,
Jeff Mills,
Sixth Finger,
Cal Tjader,
Brick,
Mark Hollis,
Gong,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
kango's stein massive,
Blake Baxter,
OOIOO,
Absolute Body Control,
The Seeds,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Kinks,
The Last Poets,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Model 500,
Soul II Soul,
Kool Moe Dee,
Boz Scaggs,
Slave,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Brass Construction,
Sonic Youth,
Lalann,
Nik Kershaw,
Joe Finger,
Negative Approach,
Cheater Slicks,
The Cowsills,
Scion,
Donald Byrd,
Gichy Dan,
The Motions,
Matthew Bourne,
Crispy Ambulance,
Henry Cow,
Jerry's Kids,
the Germs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.