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 Barbados and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 theremin 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 Ornette Coleman to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warren Ellis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Cure,
Bill Wells,
Whodini,
DNA,
Ituana,
Ronan,
Johnny Osbourne,
Excepter,
Sandy B,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Cal Tjader,
Chrome,
Fela Kuti,
Sonny Sharrock,
Intrusion,
Procol Harum,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dennis Brown,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kaleidoscope,
Barclay James Harvest,
Steve Hackett,
China Crisis,
John Lydon,
Eurythmics,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Vainqueur,
Rosa Yemen,
Spoonie Gee,
Yusef Lateef,
Wire,
Sugar Minott,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Idris Muhammad,
Bush Tetras,
Mantronix,
Lalo Schifrin,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barrington Levy,
UT,
Icehouse,
Urselle,
The Music Machine,
Bang On A Can,
Susan Cadogan,
Isaac Hayes,
Accadde A,
Pussy Galore,
Nirvana,
Scientists,
DJ Sneak,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Reagan Youth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Quantec,
Freddie Wadling,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tim Buckley,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Half Japanese,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.