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 East Timor and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 B.T. Express to the crunk 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Josef K,
Yaz,
Pole,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Blancmange,
Eddi Front,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jacques Brel,
Basic Channel,
Brothers Johnson,
Icehouse,
Throbbing Gristle,
Shuggie Otis,
the Normal,
Monks,
Rod Modell,
Cal Tjader,
UT,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Echospace,
Japan,
Nico,
Severed Heads,
New Order,
Kenny Larkin,
Qualms,
Curtis Mayfield,
John Cale,
The Sound,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Techniques,
The Move,
The Smoke,
Amon Düül,
AZ,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Sonics,
Technova,
The Electric Prunes,
The Velvet Underground,
Nils Olav,
Aural Exciters,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Smog,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ultravox,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mark Hollis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bauhaus,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Mojo Men,
Simply Red,
John Holt,
Nation of Ulysses,
Idris Muhammad,
Von Mondo,
Sound Behaviour,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
DJ Sneak,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.