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 Bahrain and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the sitar 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 Nils Olav to the disco 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Sixth Finger,
Eric Copeland,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cameo,
Crooked Eye,
Inner City,
Fear,
Max Romeo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Roxette,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Arthur Verocai,
Ornette Coleman,
Harry Pussy,
The Grass Roots,
the Human League,
Pharoah Sanders,
MDC,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Dirtbombs,
Outsiders,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Gap Band,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Monolake,
The Monks,
Kayak,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Pretty Things,
Dawn Penn,
Hot Snakes,
The Fire Engines,
Altered Images,
The Durutti Column,
Dave Gahan,
Ronan,
Skaos,
Saccharine Trust,
Motorama,
The Young Rascals,
The Cure,
Ohio Players,
Archie Shepp,
New York Dolls,
Magazine,
Erykah Badu,
The Knickerbockers,
Negative Approach,
Skriet,
Matthew Bourne,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Associates,
Eli Mardock,
Scrapy,
48th St. Collective,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.