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 Kiribati and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Taipei.
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 marimba 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 Charles Mingus to the rock 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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Duran Duran,
DJ Style,
The Flesh Eaters,
Underground Resistance,
Mark Hollis,
Scion,
John Cale,
Ken Boothe,
Urselle,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ice-T,
The Durutti Column,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Dave Gahan,
Joey Negro,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Flag,
Black Sheep,
Blancmange,
Harmonia,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Victims,
Quadrant,
Pulsallama,
Warsaw,
Mandrill,
Robert Görl,
Kurtis Blow,
Minor Threat,
The American Breed,
Henry Cow,
Inner City,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Los Fastidios,
Leonard Cohen,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Blake Baxter,
Terrestrial Tones,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kayak,
Gang Green,
Model 500,
Sällskapet,
Eric Copeland,
Camouflage,
Sex Pistols,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
X-101,
Max Romeo,
The Doobie Brothers,
Y Pants,
Hoover,
Sister Nancy,
Slick Rick,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Move,
The Dirtbombs,
Ponytail,
Derrick Morgan,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.