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 Kazakhstan 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 harpsichord 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 Marcia Griffiths to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mighty Diamonds 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
Crooked Eye,
Morten Harket,
The Gun Club,
Suicide,
The Monks,
Yusef Lateef,
Easy Going,
Mad Mike,
Black Sheep,
The Residents,
The Litter,
Blossom Toes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Arab on Radar,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Normal,
New Age Steppers,
Monolake,
Robert Hood,
Vainqueur,
Leonard Cohen,
Ten City,
The Seeds,
Man Parrish,
Japan,
Ronan,
Erasure,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bad Manners,
Scion,
The Happenings,
Carl Craig,
Symarip,
The Cowsills,
Junior Murvin,
CMW,
The Remains,
Godley & Creme,
the Association,
James White and The Blacks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Danielle Patucci,
Pere Ubu,
The Smoke,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Pretty Things,
Flash Fearless,
K-Klass,
Parry Music,
Quando Quango,
Public Enemy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Curtis Mayfield,
Au Pairs,
EPMD,
Gabor Szabo,
Crispy Ambulance,
The New Christs,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.