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 Bahrain and from Bremen.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 oboe 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 The Beau Brummels to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
It's A Beautiful Day,
Little Man,
U.S. Maple,
The Moleskins,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Heaven 17,
Public Enemy,
Sonny Sharrock,
10cc,
Sex Pistols,
Danielle Patucci,
John Cale,
Vainqueur,
Grandmaster Flash,
Barrington Levy,
the Slits,
The Smoke,
The Flesh Eaters,
Porter Ricks,
Kaleidoscope,
The Vogues,
The Zeros,
Moss Icon,
Agitation Free,
the Sonics,
Pulsallama,
Rhythm & Sound,
Arcadia,
Jerry's Kids,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Drexciya,
Animal Collective,
48th St. Collective,
New Age Steppers,
Lakeside,
Camouflage,
Malaria!,
Pagans,
The Real Kids,
L. Decosne,
Marvin Gaye,
Boz Scaggs,
Sarah Menescal,
John Lydon,
Ten City,
Todd Rundgren,
The Litter,
Boredoms,
Reuben Wilson,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ornette Coleman,
Audionom,
Warren Ellis,
Sparks,
Suburban Knight,
Wasted Youth,
Unwound,
Y Pants,
Wolf Eyes,
DNA,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.