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 South Sudan and from Milan.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 the Sonics to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Althea and Donna,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Wake,
The Tremeloes,
Ten City,
Con Funk Shun,
Q65,
Joe Smooth,
The Index,
Sight & Sound,
Radio Birdman,
Khruangbin,
Blossom Toes,
Bauhaus,
Harry Pussy,
Buzzcocks,
Avey Tare,
10cc,
Charles Mingus,
Urselle,
Don Cherry,
the Slits,
Groovy Waters,
Rapeman,
The Cowsills,
Matthew Halsall,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sixth Finger,
Joyce Sims,
Angry Samoans,
Laurel Aitken,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Funky Four + One,
Jerry's Kids,
Electric Prunes,
Rufus Thomas,
The Residents,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eve St. Jones,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pierre Henry,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Thompson Twins,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eli Mardock,
Idris Muhammad,
The Evens,
U.S. Maple,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gang of Four,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Half Japanese,
Essential Logic,
Intrusion,
Massinfluence,
Bill Near,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Au Pairs,
Slick Rick,
Donny Hathaway,
Erasure,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.