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 United Kingdom and from Jakarta.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Pole,
Radio Birdman,
The Star Department,
Harry Pussy,
The American Breed,
The Young Rascals,
Wally Richardson,
Cymande,
MDC,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Derrick May,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Yazoo,
the Sonics,
Agitation Free,
Mars,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Stereo Dub,
Tom Boy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gang Starr,
Flamin' Groovies,
The United States of America,
Half Japanese,
The Dirtbombs,
Terry Callier,
Tres Demented,
La Düsseldorf,
The Standells,
ABBA,
DJ Sneak,
the Slits,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sister Nancy,
Hoover,
The Walker Brothers,
Franke,
Spoonie Gee,
The Happenings,
Whodini,
Marcia Griffiths,
Desert Stars,
Infiniti,
Soft Cell,
Clear Light,
The Fortunes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sex Pistols,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultra Naté,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joe Smooth,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Accadde A,
The Pretty Things,
Howard Jones,
AZ,
Pylon,
Severed Heads,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Associates,
Eurythmics,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.