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 Sweden and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Fatback Band to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tropical Tobacco,
La Düsseldorf,
The Alarm Clocks,
Wally Richardson,
Man Parrish,
Unwound,
Toni Rubio,
Eric Copeland,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Barrington Levy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Albert Ayler,
the Bar-Kays,
Lightning Bolt,
Amon Düül II,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Wings,
Gastr Del Sol,
Chris Corsano,
Von Mondo,
Ituana,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Golliwogs,
Saccharine Trust,
Terry Callier,
The Raincoats,
Ten City,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Techniques,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gil Scott Heron,
Joyce Sims,
The Knickerbockers,
Royal Trux,
The Grass Roots,
Whodini,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mo-Dettes,
Eve St. Jones,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Motorama,
Monks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cecil Taylor,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scrapy,
The Moody Blues,
Tubeway Army,
Goldenarms,
Soulsonic Force,
Marshall Jefferson,
Reagan Youth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Camberwell Now,
The Evens,
Brand Nubian,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish.
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.