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 Libya and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Young Marble Giants to the dance 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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All Lalann tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
Aswad,
Lindisfarne,
Henry Cow,
Terrestrial Tones,
Barclay James Harvest,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ossler,
Maurizio,
Mark Hollis,
Camouflage,
The Blues Magoos,
The Selecter,
Cal Tjader,
The Last Poets,
Outsiders,
Arthur Verocai,
The Alarm Clocks,
Buzzcocks,
Ultra Naté,
Minny Pops,
The Real Kids,
The Moody Blues,
Robert Wyatt,
Infiniti,
Lower 48,
Davy DMX,
Fugazi,
the Soft Cell,
cv313,
Godley & Creme,
Delon & Dalcan,
Todd Terry,
Can,
Nik Kershaw,
The Doors,
Symarip,
The Buckinghams,
New York Dolls,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pussy Galore,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Moby Grape,
Television Personalities,
Terry Callier,
AZ,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barrington Levy,
The Detroit Cobras,
The American Breed,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dead Boys,
Circle Jerks,
The Toasters,
Fear,
Pulsallama,
A Certain Ratio,
The Busters,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.