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 Tunisia and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Bobby Sherman to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Brick,
Newcleus,
Pussy Galore,
The New Christs,
Dorothy Ashby,
Negative Approach,
EPMD,
The Techniques,
Tres Demented,
Livin' Joy,
Supertramp,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Buckinghams,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eric Dolphy,
The Doobie Brothers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Idris Muhammad,
The Cure,
Sällskapet,
Pylon,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Leaves,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jacob Miller,
Vainqueur,
Banda Bassotti,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ultravox,
Junior Murvin,
Porter Ricks,
Wings,
Sonny Sharrock,
Visage,
Scientists,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wasted Youth,
Barry Ungar,
Severed Heads,
Frankie Knuckles,
Henry Cow,
Jeff Mills,
Alice Coltrane,
Kerrie Biddell,
Barrington Levy,
Bauhaus,
Lakeside,
Don Cherry,
Parry Music,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Jeff Lynne,
Japan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Funky Four + One,
Althea and Donna,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.