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 Kyrgyzstan 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
L. Decosne,
Index,
The Doors,
a-ha,
The Walker Brothers,
Banda Bassotti,
Harmonia,
Electric Prunes,
The Cowsills,
Magazine,
Black Pus,
Technova,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Supertramp,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Offenders,
Con Funk Shun,
Bad Manners,
Junior Murvin,
Matthew Halsall,
the Slits,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tom Boy,
Arthur Verocai,
Sonic Youth,
Skriet,
Mark Hollis,
Darondo,
Bill Near,
The Knickerbockers,
Dark Day,
Faust,
The Searchers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
These Immortal Souls,
Crash Course in Science,
Loose Ends,
Ohio Players,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marshall Jefferson,
New Age Steppers,
Tres Demented,
Wally Richardson,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Saccharine Trust,
Franke,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Carl Craig,
Malaria!,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
T.S.O.L.,
The Move,
Fluxion,
The Associates,
10cc,
8 Eyed Spy,
Black Bananas,
Donald Byrd,
Josef K,
Zero Boys,
Main Source,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.