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 Kazakhstan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Toronto and Lyon.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Royal Trux to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Groovy Waters. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alison Limerick,
Rufus Thomas,
This Heat,
Crooked Eye,
Glenn Branca,
Ultravox,
Bobby Womack,
Blake Baxter,
The Toasters,
The Martian,
Suicide,
Kaleidoscope,
Bobby Byrd,
Don Cherry,
Outsiders,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
U.S. Maple,
Boredoms,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Man Parrish,
Agent Orange,
Talk Talk,
8 Eyed Spy,
One Last Wish,
The Litter,
Gang Gang Dance,
Newcleus,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Techniques,
Josef K,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
DJ Style,
Tomorrow,
Das Ding,
Duran Duran,
Hasil Adkins,
Avey Tare,
the Sonics,
La Düsseldorf,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Y Pants,
The Tremeloes,
Gang Starr,
The Mojo Men,
Model 500,
Alice Coltrane,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
DJ Sneak,
Barbara Tucker,
The Star Department,
Arab on Radar,
Mo-Dettes,
Junior Murvin,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bluetip,
Underground Resistance,
Sex Pistols,
The Doors,
Stiv Bators,
Hardrive,
Interpol,
Minutemen,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.