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 Algeria and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fire Engines to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
48th St. Collective,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fat Boys,
Agent Orange,
Brick,
B.T. Express,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Duran Duran,
Half Japanese,
Ituana,
Rekid,
Eddi Front,
Henry Cow,
Underground Resistance,
MC5,
Yaz,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Walker Brothers,
the Normal,
Fugazi,
Jesper Dahlback,
Toni Rubio,
The Fall,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crime,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Boredoms,
Desert Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Hasil Adkins,
Eric Dolphy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Shadows of Knight,
JFA,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lower 48,
Brand Nubian,
Aswad,
The Victims,
Lou Christie,
China Crisis,
Gang Starr,
Royal Trux,
The Gun Club,
Scion,
Joe Finger,
Marc Almond,
The Cramps,
Bootsy Collins,
Johnny Osbourne,
Arthur Verocai,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Buckinghams,
F. McDonald,
FM Einheit,
Sonny Sharrock,
Khruangbin,
Pantytec,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.