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 the UAE and from Lagos.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 mellotron 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 Shoche to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Sonny Sharrock,
Harmonia,
Fatback Band,
John Lydon,
T. Rex,
Cecil Taylor,
The Real Kids,
Jandek,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Parry Music,
These Immortal Souls,
Vainqueur,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Victims,
Neil Young,
R.M.O.,
Alison Limerick,
Youth Brigade,
Stiv Bators,
Alton Ellis,
Qualms,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Derrick May,
The Evens,
The Dead C,
Lee Hazlewood,
Harry Pussy,
the Soft Cell,
Bill Wells,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Hardrive,
The Zeros,
Black Bananas,
Graham Central Station,
Kurtis Blow,
Tim Buckley,
Matthew Bourne,
Bluetip,
Brand Nubian,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Dirtbombs,
Andrew Hill,
Patti Smith,
Traffic Nightmare,
Susan Cadogan,
U.S. Maple,
Chris & Cosey,
Shoche,
Crash Course in Science,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
New Age Steppers,
Bronski Beat,
The Flesh Eaters,
Grandmaster Flash,
Franke,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Clear Light,
Matthew Halsall,
The Birthday Party,
Moebius,
Charles Mingus,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.