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 Belize and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Harry Pussy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Tropical Tobacco,
John Coltrane,
Deadbeat,
Minnie Riperton,
Funky Four + One,
Marvin Gaye,
Andrew Hill,
PIL,
Sound Behaviour,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soft Cell,
Ossler,
Pussy Galore,
Lalann,
The Beau Brummels,
Sam Rivers,
Chris & Cosey,
Leonard Cohen,
Neu!,
Bush Tetras,
Johnny Clarke,
June of 44,
Lyres,
The Remains,
Godley & Creme,
Pantaleimon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Oneida,
Flipper,
10cc,
Jandek,
Dawn Penn,
The Count Five,
The Stooges,
Black Pus,
Gang Green,
Suicide,
Brand Nubian,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Junior Murvin,
Clear Light,
The New Christs,
Rekid,
H. Thieme,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Robert Hood,
Janne Schatter,
Can,
The Grass Roots,
Funkadelic,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tommy Roe,
Thompson Twins,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Scion,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Unwound,
Bob Dylan,
JFA,
ABBA,
F. McDonald,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.