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 Bulgaria and from New York.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Crispian St. Peters to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
The Mummies,
The Smiths,
Henry Cow,
Con Funk Shun,
MC5,
Rites of Spring,
Youth Brigade,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Public Enemy,
Parry Music,
Grauzone,
CMW,
The Doors,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Surgeon,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Monks,
Livin' Joy,
The Evens,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Unwound,
Kool Moe Dee,
Supertramp,
a-ha,
Joe Finger,
Clear Light,
Fad Gadget,
Jeff Lynne,
David Bowie,
the Human League,
The Fire Engines,
Mary Jane Girls,
Camberwell Now,
Thompson Twins,
Bobby Byrd,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Birthday Party,
Loose Ends,
Pierre Henry,
Robert Görl,
The Toasters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sandy B,
Robert Wyatt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Slits,
Barclay James Harvest,
B.T. Express,
Andrew Hill,
DJ Sneak,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Zeros,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Invisible,
Lower 48,
Inner City,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.