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 Tonga and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Eric Dolphy to the jazz 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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Durutti Column,
Girls At Our Best!,
Malaria!,
Eric Copeland,
The Monochrome Set,
Goldenarms,
Nik Kershaw,
The Standells,
Matthew Bourne,
Kurtis Blow,
The Star Department,
Oblivians,
Brick,
The Human League,
Absolute Body Control,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Albert Ayler,
Aaron Thompson,
Y Pants,
Scientists,
Marcia Griffiths,
L. Decosne,
Youth Brigade,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Coltrane,
Michelle Simonal,
The Fuzztones,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Toni Rubio,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
KRS-One,
Minny Pops,
Sonic Youth,
8 Eyed Spy,
Soulsonic Force,
Dead Boys,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Todd Terry,
Todd Rundgren,
Vladislav Delay,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
MDC,
John Holt,
Piero Umiliani,
Fear,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bizarre Inc.,
Hoover,
Theoretical Girls,
Bad Manners,
Derrick May,
Jeff Lynne,
Gang Gang Dance,
Deakin,
Big Daddy Kane,
Infiniti,
Make Up,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.