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 Italy and from Accra.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Spokane.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Barclay James Harvest to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Hardrive,
Cal Tjader,
Chris & Cosey,
Pantytec,
The Young Rascals,
Aural Exciters,
Lalann,
Blossom Toes,
Morten Harket,
The Fortunes,
Man Parrish,
The Litter,
Thee Headcoats,
Boredoms,
The Knickerbockers,
The American Breed,
PIL,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sparks,
Dark Day,
Ultravox,
The Techniques,
James White and The Blacks,
The Golliwogs,
Monolake,
Altered Images,
Kenny Larkin,
Simply Red,
Albert Ayler,
Patti Smith,
LL Cool J,
Warren Ellis,
Terrestrial Tones,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Raincoats,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Wasted Youth,
David McCallum,
Camberwell Now,
the Slits,
The United States of America,
New York Dolls,
Lindisfarne,
Henry Cow,
The Barracudas,
Eve St. Jones,
The Walker Brothers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Flag,
The Evens,
Bobby Sherman,
The Busters,
Ponytail,
The Monks,
Cybotron,
Average White Band,
Guru Guru,
New Order,
Sun Ra,
The Victims,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.