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 Vietnam and from Stockholm.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the rock 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 KRS-One. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Soft Cell,
The Moleskins,
LL Cool J,
Sex Pistols,
Skaos,
Organ,
Flipper,
Arab on Radar,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sugar Minott,
The Star Department,
Cecil Taylor,
Liliput,
Second Layer,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Stiv Bators,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Martian,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Victims,
Black Bananas,
Livin' Joy,
Buzzcocks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marine Girls,
Crooked Eye,
James White and The Blacks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ornette Coleman,
The New Christs,
John Coltrane,
Boogie Down Productions,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Womack,
Schoolly D,
Delon & Dalcan,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Association,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ludus,
Bang On A Can,
Scientists,
The Five Americans,
Severed Heads,
Jacques Brel,
New Order,
Gang Starr,
Excepter,
Nirvana,
Funky Four + One,
the Germs,
Henry Cow,
The Vogues,
Pharoah Sanders,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gabor Szabo,
K-Klass,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Godley & Creme,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.