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 Cuba and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Searchers to the crunk 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Jesper Dahlback,
Angry Samoans,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Siglo XX,
The Litter,
Pantaleimon,
Tropical Tobacco,
Todd Rundgren,
The Names,
The Smiths,
T. Rex,
The Fuzztones,
DJ Style,
Susan Cadogan,
Quadrant,
Matthew Halsall,
Massinfluence,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sight & Sound,
Sister Nancy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rufus Thomas,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sandy B,
Todd Terry,
Deepchord,
X-Ray Spex,
Amon Düül,
Terry Callier,
Rites of Spring,
The Searchers,
Visage,
Jawbox,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Birthday Party,
CMW,
Thee Headcoats,
Sparks,
Quando Quango,
Hasil Adkins,
Marshall Jefferson,
Goldenarms,
The Zeros,
Pet Shop Boys,
Radiopuhelimet,
Warsaw,
The Five Americans,
Rekid,
Panda Bear,
Glenn Branca,
Gong,
The Cramps,
Eli Mardock,
Spoonie Gee,
Wolf Eyes,
Cal Tjader,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Davy DMX,
Roxy Music,
Pagans,
Fat Boys,
Severed Heads,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.