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 Malaysia and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 clarinet 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 Stetsasonic to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
Fear,
Cheater Slicks,
Hoover,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Scientists,
Crime,
Buzzcocks,
Minutemen,
Ossler,
Gang Starr,
Wire,
Urselle,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Fugazi,
Terrestrial Tones,
JFA,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fall,
Pole,
The Young Rascals,
The Beau Brummels,
Terry Callier,
Porter Ricks,
Patti Smith,
The Electric Prunes,
The Gap Band,
Warren Ellis,
Agent Orange,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Japan,
Sällskapet,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Golliwogs,
Clear Light,
cv313,
The Happenings,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Procol Harum,
Ken Boothe,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Busters,
Q65,
Bill Wells,
Steve Hackett,
Josef K,
Bad Manners,
Ultra Naté,
Make Up,
Unrelated Segments,
Funky Four + One,
Kayak,
Moby Grape,
Robert Wyatt,
Donald Byrd,
Oneida,
Popol Vuh,
Vainqueur,
The Pop Group,
Los Fastidios,
Kurtis Blow,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.