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 Guatemala and from Salvador.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Taipei.
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 organ 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 Crash Course in Science to the rock 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Barbara Tucker,
Japan,
June Days,
Cal Tjader,
Mandrill,
The Tremeloes,
June of 44,
Yaz,
Rakim,
Stereo Dub,
Motorama,
Terry Callier,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Smoke,
Flipper,
The Slits,
The Electric Prunes,
Jacob Miller,
Alton Ellis,
The Leaves,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
La Düsseldorf,
Chrome,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Names,
Camberwell Now,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Moleskins,
The Divine Comedy,
Sparks,
Lindisfarne,
AZ,
The Walker Brothers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Blackbyrds,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wally Richardson,
Derrick May,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Real Kids,
Roxy Music,
Silicon Teens,
Jandek,
Public Enemy,
Sugar Minott,
Moby Grape,
Cluster,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bang On A Can,
Joensuu 1685,
Avey Tare,
L. Decosne,
Fela Kuti,
Albert Ayler,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Delta 5,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.