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 Grenada and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sällskapet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
E-Dancer,
Khruangbin,
The Standells,
Tommy Roe,
Matthew Halsall,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Joe Finger,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Livin' Joy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
JFA,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Blackbyrds,
Nik Kershaw,
Heaven 17,
Danielle Patucci,
Eric B and Rakim,
X-101,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barry Ungar,
48th St. Collective,
Robert Görl,
The Last Poets,
Kas Product,
Blossom Toes,
Tomorrow,
Boz Scaggs,
Alphaville,
The Velvet Underground,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Womack,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Aaron Thompson,
Sight & Sound,
the Human League,
The Electric Prunes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
OOIOO,
Procol Harum,
Suicide,
Nick Fraelich,
Lyres,
Suburban Knight,
K-Klass,
L. Decosne,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Accadde A,
Dawn Penn,
Donny Hathaway,
Maleditus Sound,
Crime,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bob Dylan,
Black Bananas,
Harmonia,
Rod Modell,
Glenn Branca,
The Beau Brummels,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.