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 Chad and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the crunk 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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Surgeon,
New Age Steppers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Blossom Toes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Flipper,
Electric Prunes,
Khruangbin,
R.M.O.,
Morten Harket,
Minor Threat,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marvin Gaye,
Cal Tjader,
Quantec,
Bluetip,
The Slackers,
Can,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Unrelated Segments,
The Star Department,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Vainqueur,
Drexciya,
Bush Tetras,
Max Romeo,
Moebius,
Heaven 17,
T. Rex,
The Dirtbombs,
Gabor Szabo,
Avey Tare,
Jandek,
Fela Kuti,
The Pop Group,
U.S. Maple,
Lucky Dragons,
John Holt,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Au Pairs,
Das Ding,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sällskapet,
Rhythm & Sound,
Oblivians,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gap Band,
X-101,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lindisfarne,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Index,
ABBA,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Amon Düül II,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.