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 Iran and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Columbus.
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 güiro 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 Shuggie Otis to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Magazine,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Slave,
Blossom Toes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Flash Fearless,
Cecil Taylor,
Chris & Cosey,
The Pretty Things,
Buzzcocks,
Wasted Youth,
The New Christs,
Gong,
Das Ding,
Bad Manners,
Pere Ubu,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cybotron,
Tears for Fears,
the Swans,
Shoche,
Jandek,
U.S. Maple,
Country Joe & The Fish,
A Certain Ratio,
Minor Threat,
Erasure,
Matthew Halsall,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Magma,
Moebius,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mission of Burma,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Angels of Light,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Birthday Party,
Talk Talk,
Alphaville,
Michelle Simonal,
Ice-T,
Chris Corsano,
Janne Schatter,
The Cowsills,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Techniques,
The Sonics,
Dead Boys,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Los Fastidios,
Dave Gahan,
D'Angelo,
Yellowson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Derrick Morgan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bob Dylan,
The Knickerbockers,
Radiohead,
New Order,
Jeff Lynne,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.