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 Morocco and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Crispian St. Peters to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
Ronnie Foster,
The Black Dice,
Whodini,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sonny Sharrock,
Chrome,
Tubeway Army,
the Germs,
Peter & Gordon,
the Swans,
Dorothy Ashby,
Alice Coltrane,
Severed Heads,
Camouflage,
Joyce Sims,
Sight & Sound,
Kool Moe Dee,
Qualms,
Brand Nubian,
Bob Dylan,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Can,
Hasil Adkins,
Black Flag,
David McCallum,
Dual Sessions,
Pere Ubu,
Brick,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ralphi Rosario,
Yazoo,
Shoche,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Saints,
Technova,
X-101,
The Remains,
Lightning Bolt,
Wally Richardson,
The Blackbyrds,
Adolescents,
Clear Light,
June of 44,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Howard Jones,
Sparks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
H. Thieme,
Deakin,
Little Man,
Sun Ra,
Pantaleimon,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Tremeloes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Dead C,
Roy Ayers,
These Immortal Souls,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.