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 Sri Lanka and from Delhi.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the jazz 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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Roxette tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Wings,
The Tremeloes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Severed Heads,
D'Angelo,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fatback Band,
Vainqueur,
Royal Trux,
John Holt,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Human League,
Eddi Front,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pere Ubu,
Moby Grape,
Smog,
Robert Görl,
The Sonics,
Visage,
Skarface,
The J.B.'s,
Iggy Pop,
Spoonie Gee,
One Last Wish,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Echospace,
Wasted Youth,
Lyres,
Los Fastidios,
Skaos,
The Trojans,
Marine Girls,
Scott Walker,
Electric Prunes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Minor Threat,
Leonard Cohen,
The Doors,
Gong,
Absolute Body Control,
R.M.O.,
Junior Murvin,
Guru Guru,
Average White Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Eve St. Jones,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amazonics,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Anakelly,
Moebius,
Dorothy Ashby,
June Days,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kerri Chandler,
Urselle,
the Bar-Kays,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.