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 Cyprus and from Calgary.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Barclay James Harvest to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Funky Four + One,
Rekid,
Cal Tjader,
Saccharine Trust,
Amon Düül,
Cameo,
Subhumans,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gun Club,
Bill Wells,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jacob Miller,
Circle Jerks,
The Invisible,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
B.T. Express,
Derrick Morgan,
Chris & Cosey,
Glambeats Corp.,
The American Breed,
Carl Craig,
The Beau Brummels,
The Dirtbombs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Crime,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bush Tetras,
Archie Shepp,
Brand Nubian,
Niagra,
The Dave Clark Five,
Faraquet,
Robert Görl,
Johnny Clarke,
The Walker Brothers,
David Bowie,
Lakeside,
Franke,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Raincoats,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Martian,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Lydon,
Charles Mingus,
Patti Smith,
Amon Düül II,
Babytalk,
Vainqueur,
KRS-One,
UT,
Brass Construction,
Moby Grape,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Boredoms,
ABC,
Altered Images,
Popol Vuh,
Boogie Down Productions,
Severed Heads,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.