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 Korea South and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Roxette to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
The Electric Prunes,
The Birthday Party,
The Wake,
The Golliwogs,
The Music Machine,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scrapy,
Tres Demented,
Shuggie Otis,
Black Sheep,
Camouflage,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Theoretical Girls,
The Techniques,
Graham Central Station,
Funkadelic,
48th St. Collective,
Urselle,
The Last Poets,
David Axelrod,
Amazonics,
Yellowson,
The Sound,
Dorothy Ashby,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scientists,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joy Division,
Essential Logic,
Fluxion,
Sex Pistols,
One Last Wish,
Inner City,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sandy B,
kango's stein massive,
John Cale,
Avey Tare,
Sight & Sound,
Whodini,
the Fania All-Stars,
Smog,
The Leaves,
Eric Copeland,
Newcleus,
Eurythmics,
Radiohead,
Josef K,
The Smoke,
Danielle Patucci,
Underground Resistance,
The Martian,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Searchers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Susan Cadogan,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.