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 Tanzania and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 808 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 Malaria! to the electroclash 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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Grandmaster Flash,
Fear,
Deepchord,
Nirvana,
Connie Case,
Little Man,
Anakelly,
Bobby Sherman,
Quadrant,
the Sonics,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Boz Scaggs,
The Gun Club,
John Coltrane,
R.M.O.,
The Birthday Party,
Whodini,
Ornette Coleman,
Eli Mardock,
PIL,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Moody Blues,
June of 44,
The Grass Roots,
Sam Rivers,
The Remains,
Steve Hackett,
Main Source,
The Durutti Column,
Pussy Galore,
Mission of Burma,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Second Layer,
Toni Rubio,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kenny Larkin,
Cybotron,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Beau Brummels,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Thee Headcoats,
Radiohead,
Sex Pistols,
The Kinks,
The Pop Group,
Letta Mbulu,
The Tremeloes,
Interpol,
This Heat,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Piero Umiliani,
The Evens,
The Index,
Skriet,
Dead Boys,
Simply Red,
Pantaleimon,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.