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 Cambodia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the grunge 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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks 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?
MDC,
Dawn Penn,
Depeche Mode,
Symarip,
Arthur Verocai,
Laurel Aitken,
Siglo XX,
Fugazi,
Alton Ellis,
One Last Wish,
Hot Snakes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Remains,
Bob Dylan,
James White and The Blacks,
World's Most,
Camberwell Now,
Dave Gahan,
Livin' Joy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Peter & Gordon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Niagra,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Eric B and Rakim,
PIL,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Angels of Light,
Roy Ayers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sound Behaviour,
Bobby Byrd,
Eden Ahbez,
John Holt,
Main Source,
the Soft Cell,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Arcadia,
The American Breed,
The Gun Club,
Byron Stingily,
Black Moon,
La Düsseldorf,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Fortunes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Piero Umiliani,
Whodini,
Basic Channel,
LL Cool J,
The Trojans,
The United States of America,
Trumans Water,
Simply Red,
Black Flag,
The Red Krayola,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.