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 Indonesia and from Johannesburg.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Junior Murvin to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Bootsy Collins,
Newcleus,
Q and Not U,
UT,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Anthony Braxton,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
John Foxx,
Rites of Spring,
The Modern Lovers,
Susan Cadogan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jeff Mills,
Kerri Chandler,
Barbara Tucker,
The Kinks,
Sparks,
Thee Headcoats,
One Last Wish,
Vainqueur,
Warsaw,
Lindisfarne,
The Seeds,
Con Funk Shun,
Silicon Teens,
JFA,
Nirvana,
Bush Tetras,
Erasure,
Underground Resistance,
Davy DMX,
June of 44,
Altered Images,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tres Demented,
The Fall,
Junior Murvin,
Adolescents,
Stereo Dub,
Y Pants,
Royal Trux,
Grey Daturas,
Moby Grape,
FM Einheit,
This Heat,
The Shadows of Knight,
Joensuu 1685,
Johnny Clarke,
Cheater Slicks,
10cc,
Gang of Four,
The Birthday Party,
Faraquet,
Henry Cow,
T. Rex,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wolf Eyes,
Roy Ayers,
The Mummies,
Intrusion,
The Cure,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.