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 Kiribati and from Hong Kong.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer 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 Harmonia to the crunk 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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Maleditus Sound,
Tubeway Army,
The New Christs,
Make Up,
Section 25,
Lebanon Hanover,
Absolute Body Control,
Robert Hood,
The Real Kids,
Sex Pistols,
The Fortunes,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Raincoats,
Bush Tetras,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Count Five,
Marc Almond,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Accadde A,
Pylon,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Agent Orange,
Dark Day,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Leaves,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
K-Klass,
Guru Guru,
Donald Byrd,
Q65,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sister Nancy,
Isaac Hayes,
Kaleidoscope,
Rites of Spring,
Surgeon,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Divine Comedy,
Ice-T,
Barrington Levy,
the Association,
Intrusion,
Pantytec,
Faust,
Crash Course in Science,
Angry Samoans,
Von Mondo,
Hardrive,
Adolescents,
The Cure,
Brass Construction,
X-102,
Moebius,
Jacques Brel,
Tomorrow,
Average White Band,
The Gun Club,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.