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 Brazil 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 chamberlin 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 Ohio Players to the grunge 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers Ubiquity record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Joensuu 1685,
The Move,
Section 25,
Anakelly,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Moby Grape,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stockholm Monsters,
Vladislav Delay,
Derrick May,
Kurtis Blow,
Joey Negro,
Sam Rivers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sarah Menescal,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Supertramp,
Kerri Chandler,
Bad Manners,
Moebius,
The Smoke,
Tom Boy,
Niagra,
Mark Hollis,
Gong,
Bauhaus,
Fad Gadget,
The Saints,
Johnny Osbourne,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Slits,
Crispian St. Peters,
Stiv Bators,
Graham Central Station,
Thompson Twins,
Hardrive,
Schoolly D,
Brass Construction,
Scan 7,
Alice Coltrane,
Funky Four + One,
B.T. Express,
Stetsasonic,
Mo-Dettes,
Mad Mike,
Little Man,
Khruangbin,
The Shadows of Knight,
Robert Görl,
Radio Birdman,
Lalann,
FM Einheit,
Al Stewart,
Con Funk Shun,
Fela Kuti,
Darondo,
D'Angelo,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.