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 Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Marmalade to the rap 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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Radio Birdman,
Ultimate Spinach,
Soulsonic Force,
Malaria!,
Youth Brigade,
Qualms,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cybotron,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Velvet Underground,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Gories,
Pylon,
The Vogues,
Alice Coltrane,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dead Boys,
Angry Samoans,
Yazoo,
Oneida,
The Litter,
Lou Christie,
Smog,
Derrick Morgan,
FM Einheit,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Searchers,
June of 44,
Flamin' Groovies,
Moebius,
Isaac Hayes,
The Walker Brothers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Stetsasonic,
June Days,
The United States of America,
Con Funk Shun,
Faust,
Big Daddy Kane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
X-Ray Spex,
Patti Smith,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Altered Images,
Khruangbin,
Thee Headcoats,
Bootsy Collins,
The Doors,
Iggy Pop,
Joe Smooth,
The Invisible,
The Victims,
The Mummies,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Amon Düül II,
the Slits,
Ultra Naté,
Lightning Bolt,
Steve Hackett,
Cal Tjader,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.