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 Samoa and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Mission of Burma to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Rhythim Is Rhythim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Normal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Moon,
Talk Talk,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Leaves,
Tim Buckley,
The Dave Clark Five,
John Holt,
Rufus Thomas,
The Seeds,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cal Tjader,
Godley & Creme,
Public Enemy,
Unwound,
Fela Kuti,
Negative Approach,
Marmalade,
Half Japanese,
Robert Hood,
Crispy Ambulance,
Camberwell Now,
Bronski Beat,
T. Rex,
Average White Band,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dark Day,
Carl Craig,
Big Daddy Kane,
Danielle Patucci,
Rites of Spring,
The Move,
Fear,
The Beau Brummels,
Derrick Morgan,
R.M.O.,
Skarface,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Section 25,
The Kinks,
Simply Red,
Jawbox,
These Immortal Souls,
a-ha,
Roger Hodgson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Icehouse,
Eli Mardock,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Searchers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Steve Hackett,
PIL,
Max Romeo,
Goldenarms,
Gabor Szabo,
CMW,
Neu!,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.