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 Burundi and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Gladiators to the dance 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Magazine,
Kaleidoscope,
X-102,
Trumans Water,
Desert Stars,
The Velvet Underground,
The Sound,
Soul II Soul,
Underground Resistance,
the Normal,
Guru Guru,
Andrew Hill,
Toni Rubio,
Joy Division,
Rufus Thomas,
The Gories,
Make Up,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Shoche,
Godley & Creme,
Quadrant,
Ituana,
The Zeros,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Skarface,
Niagra,
New York Dolls,
Liliput,
Gerry Rafferty,
Youth Brigade,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mission of Burma,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
John Coltrane,
Sonic Youth,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Dead Boys,
Porter Ricks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Danielle Patucci,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Fall,
Lou Reed,
Sugar Minott,
Camouflage,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Marc Almond,
DJ Style,
Ultimate Spinach,
FM Einheit,
Amon Düül II,
Franke,
Reuben Wilson,
The Searchers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Henry Cow,
The Index,
Eric B and Rakim,
The United States of America,
Massinfluence,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.