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 Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 linndrum 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 The Star Department to the rock 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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
The Smoke,
The Saints,
DNA,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobby Byrd,
Adolescents,
Robert Hood,
Steve Hackett,
Ohio Players,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Velvet Underground,
a-ha,
8 Eyed Spy,
Zapp,
Porter Ricks,
Television,
Section 25,
Black Pus,
Iggy Pop,
Jacques Brel,
ABC,
Bobby Womack,
E-Dancer,
The Beau Brummels,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Sonics,
Jawbox,
The Golliwogs,
Althea and Donna,
The Pretty Things,
Eli Mardock,
Panda Bear,
The Blackbyrds,
Man Parrish,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Hardrive,
Wire,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Hot Snakes,
Monolake,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Young Marble Giants,
The Martian,
Pantaleimon,
Deepchord,
Half Japanese,
Scrapy,
Ronan,
The Buckinghams,
Don Cherry,
Swell Maps,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
OOIOO,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Arthur Verocai,
Rakim,
Second Layer,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.