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 Uganda and from Halifax.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Jacques Brel to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 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 Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delon & Dalcan,
Ultimate Spinach,
Index,
The Mummies,
Susan Cadogan,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Simply Red,
Sarah Menescal,
Albert Ayler,
The Fire Engines,
UT,
The Five Americans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Sonics,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ituana,
The Slits,
Sam Rivers,
Todd Terry,
Ken Boothe,
Iggy Pop,
Sugar Minott,
Unwound,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
New York Dolls,
Soft Machine,
Pantytec,
The Real Kids,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tim Buckley,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Avey Tare,
E-Dancer,
Yellowson,
Sight & Sound,
The Birthday Party,
David Bowie,
Faraquet,
Television Personalities,
Erasure,
Dual Sessions,
Agent Orange,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Porter Ricks,
Joe Smooth,
Davy DMX,
Grey Daturas,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
China Crisis,
Spoonie Gee,
Eli Mardock,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Judy Mowatt,
Don Cherry,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pylon,
Boz Scaggs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.