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 El Salvador and from Glasgow.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Byrd 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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Shoche,
The Offenders,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
H. Thieme,
Maurizio,
Fear,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Popol Vuh,
New Age Steppers,
Vainqueur,
Cameo,
Hot Snakes,
Deakin,
Bauhaus,
Reagan Youth,
Cybotron,
Blossom Toes,
Sugar Minott,
Idris Muhammad,
Unwound,
Lou Reed,
Groovy Waters,
Yazoo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Soul II Soul,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Kinks,
Fela Kuti,
Black Sheep,
Johnny Osbourne,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Angry Samoans,
Marvin Gaye,
Nas,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gerry Rafferty,
Main Source,
Sarah Menescal,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tubeway Army,
The Leaves,
Tomorrow,
Moss Icon,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Standells,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lalann,
Malaria!,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bobbi Humphrey,
Khruangbin,
The Gun Club,
Harmonia,
The Music Machine,
New Order,
Tears for Fears,
Minor Threat,
Mo-Dettes,
Kenny Larkin,
The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight.
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.