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 Burkina and from New York.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the sitar 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 Cheater Slicks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Real Kids,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Accadde A,
Gang Starr,
The Raincoats,
Slick Rick,
Black Sheep,
Hasil Adkins,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Standells,
The Modern Lovers,
Magma,
The Knickerbockers,
Kayak,
Ronnie Foster,
Youth Brigade,
Electric Prunes,
Avey Tare,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Scratch Acid,
Nas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mr. Review,
K-Klass,
Maleditus Sound,
L. Decosne,
Banda Bassotti,
Jeff Lynne,
Circle Jerks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Slits,
Royal Trux,
Stereo Dub,
Loose Ends,
Gastr Del Sol,
Spandau Ballet,
Fatback Band,
Lou Reed,
The Moody Blues,
Severed Heads,
Nils Olav,
Barbara Tucker,
Radio Birdman,
Fugazi,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pierre Henry,
The Move,
Godley & Creme,
Glenn Branca,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Throbbing Gristle,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Sonics,
Vladislav Delay,
Little Man,
Skaos,
Barrington Levy,
Delon & Dalcan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
This Heat,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.