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 Turkmenistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 Jakarta and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 snare 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 Yazoo to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Matthew Bourne,
48th St. Collective,
Yazoo,
Magazine,
Lalann,
John Coltrane,
Amon Düül II,
Jesper Dahlback,
Hoover,
Susan Cadogan,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Maleditus Sound,
The Slackers,
Royal Trux,
Rekid,
Spandau Ballet,
Barrington Levy,
Joey Negro,
Eurythmics,
Blake Baxter,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hardrive,
Kurtis Blow,
Urselle,
Pussy Galore,
Letta Mbulu,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Moody Blues,
Ten City,
Ken Boothe,
The Pretty Things,
Bronski Beat,
8 Eyed Spy,
Section 25,
Kaleidoscope,
The Fall,
The Doobie Brothers,
Monolake,
Rod Modell,
Soft Cell,
The Vogues,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
A Certain Ratio,
Joe Smooth,
Negative Approach,
Boogie Down Productions,
Talk Talk,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Soft Machine,
Groovy Waters,
The Slits,
Kerri Chandler,
Marc Almond,
Nation of Ulysses,
David McCallum,
Silicon Teens,
Cheater Slicks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Smiths,
Wally Richardson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.