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 Tunisia and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin 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 Black Pus to the disco 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 The Wake. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Ultimate Spinach,
PIL,
Main Source,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Liliput,
Moss Icon,
The Golliwogs,
Piero Umiliani,
Cameo,
Lower 48,
Morten Harket,
Sarah Menescal,
Black Flag,
Barclay James Harvest,
Max Romeo,
Pantytec,
Jandek,
Rosa Yemen,
the Slits,
KRS-One,
Tears for Fears,
Barry Ungar,
The Pretty Things,
Desert Stars,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Move,
Sister Nancy,
Gerry Rafferty,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Association,
Rakim,
Essential Logic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sällskapet,
Intrusion,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mr. Review,
Robert Hood,
The Sisters of Mercy,
John Coltrane,
Oneida,
Basic Channel,
Donny Hathaway,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Alarm Clocks,
Monks,
Urselle,
The Dirtbombs,
Khruangbin,
The Five Americans,
Donald Byrd,
Television,
Alice Coltrane,
Joe Finger,
Reagan Youth,
OOIOO,
Cheater Slicks,
X-101,
Stiv Bators,
Tom Boy,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.