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 Benin and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Electric Prunes to the funk 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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
Jerry's Kids,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Association,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Searchers,
Duran Duran,
The Wake,
Bronski Beat,
Quantec,
Mr. Review,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Cure,
Howard Jones,
Amon Düül II,
Audionom,
Hasil Adkins,
Marc Almond,
Pussy Galore,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Model 500,
Aaron Thompson,
Quadrant,
Lou Reed,
the Sonics,
Pagans,
Boz Scaggs,
Oneida,
Soul II Soul,
The Knickerbockers,
Fluxion,
John Coltrane,
LL Cool J,
Joe Smooth,
Wings,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Dead Boys,
Depeche Mode,
Slave,
Pulsallama,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Neu!,
Banda Bassotti,
Drexciya,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Busters,
Zero Boys,
Josef K,
cv313,
Lindisfarne,
Simply Red,
Sarah Menescal,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Flag,
Blancmange,
Country Teasers,
The Golliwogs,
The Gories,
Faust,
H. Thieme,
Hot Snakes,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.