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 Barbados and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Mars to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Model 500 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Siglo XX,
Graham Central Station,
The Pretty Things,
Traffic Nightmare,
Joe Smooth,
Inner City,
Subhumans,
Funkadelic,
Adolescents,
The Associates,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Quando Quango,
Quadrant,
Urselle,
Rites of Spring,
The Velvet Underground,
Bobby Byrd,
Tom Boy,
Sandy B,
Sexual Harrassment,
Qualms,
Warren Ellis,
This Heat,
Public Enemy,
Laurel Aitken,
Marcia Griffiths,
Don Cherry,
the Sonics,
Hardrive,
T. Rex,
Terrestrial Tones,
DJ Sneak,
Arab on Radar,
Absolute Body Control,
Duran Duran,
Mo-Dettes,
Thee Headcoats,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Das Ding,
Ituana,
Minnie Riperton,
Minor Threat,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fugazi,
The Knickerbockers,
Neil Young,
Hot Snakes,
Bill Near,
Iggy Pop,
Roxy Music,
Gichy Dan,
MDC,
Crispy Ambulance,
Royal Trux,
Jerry's Kids,
The Gladiators,
a-ha,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Malaria!,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.