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 Tuvalu and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 clarinet 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 Clear Light to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacob Miller 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aural Exciters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Dead Boys,
Dawn Penn,
Fela Kuti,
Toni Rubio,
Nik Kershaw,
Johnny Osbourne,
Hasil Adkins,
Morten Harket,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pulsallama,
The Standells,
The Offenders,
Vainqueur,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Neil Young,
Angry Samoans,
The Associates,
The Skatalites,
The Martian,
K-Klass,
Gerry Rafferty,
Joe Finger,
Cheater Slicks,
Amazonics,
Ossler,
The Human League,
Faraquet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Invisible,
Ronnie Foster,
Arcadia,
Reagan Youth,
Dark Day,
Guru Guru,
Massinfluence,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Golliwogs,
DNA,
The Fire Engines,
Soul Sonic Force,
Agent Orange,
Urselle,
Marcia Griffiths,
Banda Bassotti,
Gichy Dan,
Bill Near,
Reuben Wilson,
E-Dancer,
Soft Cell,
Franke,
Roy Ayers,
Barrington Levy,
The Misunderstood,
Lakeside,
Fatback Band,
The Real Kids,
New Age Steppers,
Todd Terry,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.