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 Georgia 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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Kerrie Biddell to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roger Hodgson,
Soul Sonic Force,
Connie Case,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gregory Isaacs,
Robert Wyatt,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rites of Spring,
Ossler,
Pet Shop Boys,
Depeche Mode,
Colin Newman,
Chris Corsano,
The Misunderstood,
Eurythmics,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Basic Channel,
Tears for Fears,
Mantronix,
Girls At Our Best!,
Clear Light,
Intrusion,
Black Pus,
James White and The Blacks,
cv313,
Siglo XX,
Johnny Clarke,
Funkadelic,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eyeless In Gaza,
JFA,
Simply Red,
Flamin' Groovies,
Michelle Simonal,
Ultimate Spinach,
Minnie Riperton,
Harry Pussy,
Arthur Verocai,
Schoolly D,
Babytalk,
Shoche,
John Coltrane,
Supertramp,
Rakim,
Amon Düül II,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gong,
Donny Hathaway,
Dark Day,
Frankie Knuckles,
Amon Düül,
Ronan,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ultravox,
Nils Olav,
Tubeway Army,
Surgeon,
Procol Harum,
Interpol,
Gabor Szabo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.