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 Congo and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 808 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 Robert Wyatt to the rock 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Absolute Body Control,
The Names,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rod Modell,
Lalann,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Siglo XX,
The Cure,
Technova,
The American Breed,
Gong,
Blancmange,
Lakeside,
Tom Boy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Organ,
Marvin Gaye,
Blake Baxter,
Vainqueur,
The Black Dice,
Janne Schatter,
Japan,
Television Personalities,
The Martian,
Sexual Harrassment,
Curtis Mayfield,
Susan Cadogan,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sparks,
Sonic Youth,
Mantronix,
The Modern Lovers,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lower 48,
Prince Buster,
Ohio Players,
Visage,
Model 500,
Black Bananas,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Standells,
Hot Snakes,
Ronan,
Leonard Cohen,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Easy Going,
Accadde A,
Marmalade,
Alton Ellis,
Don Cherry,
Swell Maps,
Infiniti,
The Smoke,
Bad Manners,
The Slits,
Brick,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Monks,
The New Christs,
Pantytec,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.