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 Mauritius and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 Portland and Taipei.
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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Black Moon to the grime 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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Evens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Nico,
John Cale,
Ultimate Spinach,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Stiv Bators,
Rekid,
The Smoke,
Amazonics,
The Remains,
The Blackbyrds,
Mo-Dettes,
Quadrant,
Lungfish,
Oneida,
JFA,
Quantec,
Bluetip,
Terry Callier,
The Knickerbockers,
Max Romeo,
Franke,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tropical Tobacco,
Brass Construction,
Josef K,
Pantytec,
The Golliwogs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Flamin' Groovies,
Joe Smooth,
The Searchers,
Bob Dylan,
Oblivians,
Talk Talk,
Interpol,
Lightning Bolt,
Black Flag,
Robert Görl,
Erykah Badu,
Reuben Wilson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sex Pistols,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Dennis Brown,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Fat Boys,
Lucky Dragons,
Junior Murvin,
One Last Wish,
Guru Guru,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Slits,
DNA,
the Normal,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Severed Heads,
Magma,
The Moody Blues,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.