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 Austria and from Paris.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Fortunes to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
Mission of Burma,
Letta Mbulu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Minnie Riperton,
Japan,
Interpol,
Joey Negro,
The Techniques,
Talk Talk,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Wasted Youth,
MDC,
The Kinks,
Royal Trux,
Rakim,
Groovy Waters,
Lyres,
Inner City,
Tubeway Army,
Judy Mowatt,
The American Breed,
The Raincoats,
Subhumans,
Ralphi Rosario,
Television Personalities,
the Normal,
the Swans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Gap Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Johnny Clarke,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Fugs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Andrew Hill,
Black Sheep,
The Gories,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Intrusion,
Arcadia,
U.S. Maple,
Cymande,
Panda Bear,
Lightning Bolt,
Soft Cell,
Monolake,
Angry Samoans,
Pharoah Sanders,
Michelle Simonal,
Gil Scott Heron,
a-ha,
Basic Channel,
Country Teasers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Tommy Roe,
Marc Almond,
Chrome,
Harmonia,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.